


Children of the Night

by Irma7x



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Arkanis (Star Wars), Artist!Reader, Cunnilingus, England (Country), F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, Mutual Pining, No Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, PIV Sex, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Turning, Vampires, alternative universe, faintly inspired by The Little Stranger (2018), kylux is mentioned but super briefly, mentions of disease, slowish burn though, vampire!hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irma7x/pseuds/Irma7x
Summary: There are rumours in the fishing town of Arkanis. Rumours, that spoke of a ghost that haunted the abandoned mansion near the ports. On an autumn evening, Armitage Hux, a lonely doctor that worked the graveyard shifts, receives an ominous call beckoning him to that very place.  He'll soon find out if the ghost stories of Scarparus Mansion are true, obtaining more than what he bargained for along the way.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Armitage Hux/Original Female Character(s), Armitage Hux/Reader, Armitage Hux/You, blink and you'll miss it - Relationship, the kylux is super brief though
Comments: 45
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with a new Hux/Reader story! I've had this one in the back of my head for so long that I'm glad to finally get it out of my system. It's one I'm specially excited about and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do <3

Arkanis, England. 1948. 

_It’s pouring rain when he receives the call._

_A windy evening going onto a thunderous night, as if the souls of the dead had started to rise early, being the last week of september. Dr. Armitage Hux had just packed the last of his medical equipment in a sturdy case. As he was putting on his coat for an evening’s shift at the little clinic he shared with Dr. Krennic, the phone started ringing, disrupting the calmness of his flat._

_He’s stunned to silence, as soon as he picks up the phone._

\---

Dr. Armitage Hux always takes the graveyard shifts. 

He has to, although he can’t deny the freedom he finds in roaming alone throughout sleepy Arkanis, when the moon rises to keep him company. The light that emanates from the moon is the only one that can’t hurt him. That, or the flickering dollops from the candles that keep his flat from being showered in total darkness. 

On this night, his routine is altered. 

He does not walk towards the main lane to the clinic, no. Rather, he hops into his black Ford Eight and drives through the outskirts of town all the way to Scarparus, where a lone mansion hid amongst ancient trees, a couple of miles west of the port. 

The mansion once belonged to the (L/N) family, anyone that had lived long enough in Arkanis knew so. They could recall a time when Scarparus Mansion was alight and lively with partying and cheer on every and any occasion. The (L/N)’s were well regarded -- most notable thinkers and academics. The head of the family had been a brilliant engineer who had contributed to most of Arkanis’s urbanization. In fact, the beautiful mansion, innovative in its style and structure, had been of his design. But then the war happened, and the fishing town that had once been so vibrant with nightlights, soon became barren -- a similar fate for Scarparus and those who inhabited it. 

Some said that the (L/N)’s had returned to their motherland, others that they had been prisoners of war. All rumours coincided in the fact that Scarparus had been emptied. 

Others however, assured that they could still see fumes coming out from the chimney, once every full moon. That the place haunted by a figure in white that could be seen looking out from the windows. Scary stories thus piled up, inculcating the idea that going to the harbour was a bad omen. 

But Armitage Hux was not one to recoil from those. He was of the very essence that made up bad omens. 

The details are hazy, but he had been _that_ way ever since he could recall. 

He knows that he had a family before _the incident_ happened. The one where his biological clock stopped and his body temperature dropped, forever. 

He remembers blurry details about Brendol, his father, who had been a nasty bastard, responsible for Armitage’s childhood traumas. He knows he had played a part in his murder, somehow, but that’s where his memories become hazy. That _thing_ \-- that _bat_ from Parnassos Island that his friend Phasma had brought from her trip around 1880-something...she had said that its bite was deadly, that the creature's saliva was extremely poisonous. They were going to use it to finally terminate Brendol Hux...but something went _wrong_. 

Last thing he remembers is waking up fever-ridden and starving. Or rather parched, not for water but for _blood_. 

He ran away without a trace, as an eternal thirty-five year old. He hadn’t even stopped to check if his father’s murder had been succesful. He fled from Ireland, crossed over to England to settle in London for a while, eventually stumbling across the calm sea-side town that was Arkanis. A small community that was in dire need of doctors. 

He affiliated himself with Dr. Orson Krennic, a middle-aged man with icy blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. His accent indicated that he too, came from a faraway land -- even further than Armitage himself. Australia, if he wasn’t mistaken. 

Besides having opted for the night shifts for obvious reasons, patients always phoned for Krennic anway, and it annoyed Armitage to no end. People didn’t seem to trust him. Maybe because he was younger, or because of his permanent frown. If Dickens had written about Hux, he would be a character akin to Mr. Scrooge -- always sulking, never greeting his neighbors. 

Although he was an excellent doctor -- pragmatic and swift in his diagnoses -- people were _unnerved_ by him. It was his supernatural truth peeking from within, yet no one could pinpoint their hesitancy on _such_ a thing. Nevertheless, he prided himself in being a superior doctor than his colleague and he maintained that he was simply underestimated. 

But on this foggy autumn evening, Krennic hadn’t been available, Hux had picked up the call. 

A call that came all the way from the outskirts of town. 

From _Scarparus._

\-- 

His car bumped among the unkempt grass and dents in the uneven gravel road; the thundering rain had made it a whole trek to get the wheels through the unrelenting mud that coated the path, until he managed to make it all the way to the grand entrance. 

Sheltering himself from the rain underneath an ample porch, and knocking with the rusty brass knocker hung up on the double doors, creating such magnified echoes he could get an idea of how hollow it must be inside. 

The door creaks open, leaving a ribbon of a spider’s web from which he sees a frightened young lady. 

“Dr. Armitage Hux at your service.” 

“Oh, jeezus! ya gave me a fright!” the girl exclaims with a heavy scottish on accent, hands going dramatically to her chest. “We were expecting Dr. Krennic?” 

“He was away on duty, but I was available.”

“Oh...Just--it’s just that Dr. Krennic has been the fam’ly’s doctor -- knows of the missus’ medical history...” 

“Right. Well, you can brief me in and I’ll be glad to take a look at miss (L/N).” 

“Oh, erm -- ‘course, uh-- right this way doctor, if ye will. Come in” 

Upon being granted an invitation, he was able to step into the property. The _ghastly_ property. The first floor was dismal alright: drenched in obscurity and dust, dust in every surface, from the golden frames that decorated its walls and the discoloured paintings within them; the mirrors needed a good polishing (which, worked in his convenience given his lack of a reflection), and a musty smell dominated the room. The second floor wasn’t any better; a lugubre labyrinth decorated by parallel rows of ghosts or at least that’s what it looked like, with the entirety of furniture covered in white blankets. 

While the young housekeeper led him through the place, she introduced herself and briefed him on her mistress’ condition. 

Hux learns then that the girl’s name is Ceera O’Bannon, of twenty years of age. The jobs were scarce in Arkanis, more so for such a young and inexperienced lady like Ceera. The only vacant position she knew of was that of a housekeeper. While it was of scant pay, it was proper work, and the fact that a stay-in-maid had been required was convenient for Ceera, as she had been without a home when she first arrived at the port. Convenient, yes, despite the macabre tales surrounding the house. 

While Ceera had found that no such evil lived in it, she still got the creeps when she roamed around the corners by herself in the night. She could blame it on the creaking wood and the old pipes, the tricks of the light, her poor eyesight or the moans of the howling winds, yet despite her logic, a part of her brain still pointed to ghosts. 

And it was evident in the way that she trembled as she spoke, although the chilliness of the room was certainly at fault for that as well. Hux could swear that the inside of the mansion was colder still than the outside. 

“Miss (Y/N) has been suffering from fainting spells and fatigue, going for periods of time where she can barely get out of bed or hold in her food.” Ceera explains, and Hux controls the urge to cringe every time their steps make the wooden floors shriek, and how Ceera holds up a gas-lamp to guide them through despite having electricity. 

As if able to read his mind, Ceera turns and merely looks at him with an apologetic smile. 

“With the mistress' inheritance running out, we’re b’rely able to make ends meet. We’re tryna’ cut back on el’ctricity -- I only turn on the radiator in the mistress’ room to keep it warm ‘r else she feels poorly.” 

“Of course.” 

They come up to a sort of threshold that looks like a portal to an alternate dimension. Hux wonders if he would encounter a ghoul in white akin Miss Havisham from _Great Expectations_. His heart echoed the pace of a race-horse galloping away, as Ceera tentatively opened the door. 

“The doctor is here, miss...” Ceera whispers. They’re welcomed to a room bathed in such an unflattering light, like stepping into the scene of a sepia photograph. 

“Dr. Armitage Hux, at your service. Krennic was occupied, I’m afraid.” 

Hux announces himself, to the unmoving figure that had her back to him, curled in on herself on the canopy bed. The only thing that he could see from his position was her halo of hair sprawled all over her pillows, and the rising and falling of her strained breath. By smell alone, he’s certain of her diagnosis -- the absence of iron from her blood was as clear as moonbeams reflected on the Arkanisian seas. 

The mistress did not answer, so Hux stepps around to reach her side, kneeling down to be at her eye-level. The lady of the house was not the witchy creature he had envisioned. She was nestled within her blankets, fisting them in her feeble hands to try to recoil from the chill of the room, even if the radiator was on. 

Her eyes were scrunched-shut, and Armitage had a bit of time to appraise her before she could catch him in the act. Her natural skin tone had turned a sickly shade of yellow with purplish hues, waxy and sunken in; her eyes were encompassed in dark circles; her lips were puffed out in sleep but were clearly dry and bitten; her blue veins popped out from her fists as she held onto her linens for warmth. She was a fighter, there was no doubt about that, but her stage of anemia was a potent antagonist that had clearly succeeded in draining the life out of her. 

“Miss (L/N)?” He gently murmurs. 

A lack of response prompts him to act on his desire, placing a palm atop her fists to sooth her knuckles, caressing them until her joints gave in and the young maiden finally opened her eyes. 

Her gaze takes Armitage by surprise. It’s a funny feeling, the fuzziness in his chest as those big eyes stare, not in fear or disgust but in _wonder_. 

“Good. She awakens.” He whispers. “Hello, miss (L/N).” 

“Who are you?” 

“I’m Dr. Armitage Hux, I’m here to check up on you, Dr. Krennic was unavailable.” 

“Ah, for shame. I thought my time had finally come and I was being greeted by some angel.” 

“Don’t say that, miss (L/N). You have a whole life ahead of you, I’m sure.” _And I’m no angel_ , he wanted to add, but refrained. Still, words escape him to describe that peculiar feeling at the pit of his stomach by her remark. 

“I sure hope not if I continue on like this.” 

“Nonsense. Let us have a look, will you sit up please?” 

Her iron deficiency was evident but it was more severe than originally thought. As soon as she goes to sit up she gets dizzy, nearly fainting on top of Hux, who immediately goes to support her torso to keep her from falling. It ends in her holding onto Hux’s shoulders, head reclined atop his chest. 

“My, you’re freezing, doctor. Apologies for keeping the house like Antarctica, but--”

“Don’t worry, Miss (L/N). Ceera has explained. I run cold anyway.” 

Armitage could not help but bask in the weight of her against him. He appeared profesional on the outside, but on the inside, a range of emotions were swirling within. Immortality and touch starvation could do that to a man. 

All thoughts aside, he instructs Ceera to accommodate the pillows so that (Y/N) could recline against them to proceed with the examination. 

“Right, miss (L/N) it is clear that you’re suffering from iron deficiency, but let’s go ahead with the general check-up first.” 

While sitting next to her, he goes through the whole routine, starting with firm touches to her abdomen to check for pain, checking to the dilatation of her eyes and then her breathing and heartbeat through the stethoscope. It was her blood pressure that was alarming -- several steps below the average, with her systolic pressure at 84. 

“Tell me, miss (L/N), do you experience a deep sense of fatigue during the day? To the point where concentrating on easy tasks becomes hard?” 

“Oh, yes, all the time. I thought it was just laziness but, it truly is a battle to get out of bed.” 

“Do you experience dizziness when standing up? Any weird cravings?” 

“Yes, every time I stand up or move too quickly. And I feel so tired but somehow it feels as though my heart is racing away at the same time. Cravings? Like chocolate or pastries?” 

“More like, craving strange flavors, like dirt.” 

“Oh, no, not really. But I do crave sugar.” 

“Yes, that’s because your blood pressure is dangerously low, Miss (L/N). You have all the symptoms of anemia -- it’s when your blood is short on its production of red blood cells. There are different types, and different stages. Yours is one we need to look out for, we need to augment your consumption of iron-rich foods immediately. We’ll aim to incorporate more legumbres to your meals at first -- lots of beans, lentils. You need to eat vegetables such as potatoes and spinach, and if you can snack on almonds and cashew nuts that would be ideal, miss. Fruits with vitamin C like oranges will potentiate the consumption of iron. And most importantly, eat protein, especially red meat--” 

“--Ceera, can you give us a moment, please” (Y/N) interrupts. 

“Yes, m’lady” 

With Ceera gone, (Y/N) stares at the doctor with a somber look. 

“Dr. Hux, may I confide in you with something quite delicate?” 

“Of course, miss (L/N).” 

“Oh, please, call me (Y/N)” she smiles. 

“Miss (Y/N)” Hux clarifies, making (Y/N) laugh at his formalities. 

“Doctor, I have to confess, I don’t have a lot of resources at the moment, for such a diet. I fear that may be the reason why my condition has worsened; Ceera and I have been trying to cut back on as much as we can, for my family’s inheritance is quickly running out. They didn’t leave much behind anyway but I was able to get by with my craft. I’m an artist, you see. People commission me to paint their portraits, take their photographs. I have sold many original artworks too. But with the vestiges of the war, I haven’t had a commission in _so_ long. People are wary of wasting money on what some consider a banality. Is there any way I can make up for some of those foods? Maybe, you could tell me which of those have the most nutrients? Or maybe, which ones are more affordable? I need to distribute my means.” 

Hux ponders over this while looking at (Y/N). 

There’s a stirring in his heart, loud and insistent, a visceral pull. Had it been anyone else at all, Hux would’ve scoffed and taken a condescending approach, as he did with patients who thought themselves smarter than him, trying to get away with not paying the consultation fee. 

But (Y/N) spoke with nothing but sincerity. Nothing but a deep-rooted worry, a sadness. A kind of sadness he was too familiar with. 

So he comes up with a solution. 

“Why don’t we make a deal, miss (Y/N)? How about, I commission you for a portrait? In exchange, I will treat you, and add to it your money’s worth in the groceries and medicine you need.” 

“Oh, doctor, you don’t have to, it’s too much -- I, I can’t--” 

“Nonsense, miss (Y/N). I’m not offering you this stuff for free, I’m commissioning you. Your condition is critical, miss (Y/N). I fear the worst for your health if we don’t act immediately. And you _will_ need medicine along the way, expensive medicine, and I will need to keep coming back to monitor your health. Dealing with anemia is not a straight path.” 

“A-are you sure? Why are you doing this, doctor. If -- if it’s out of _pity_ don’t you dare insult--”

“- _-Miss (Y/N)._ ” He interrupts, speaking with utmost sincerity. “I only wish to help you.” 

Hux found that, he did in fact care. Why? Not a clue. Something beyond himself compelled him to do so. Something that felt as pure as the moonlight’s companionship on a lonely night. “Please, accept my proposition.” 

(Y/) regards him intently, analyzing him, trying to detect any hint of an ulterior motive with her artist’s perception. 

But apparently she finds none, and her gaze softens, easing the slight tension that had been created between the two. Hux is certainly relieved -- he had the inexplicable urge to remain on miss (Y/N)’s good graces. 

“Alright” she says around a shy smile. “If you would kindly fetch Ceera so she can make a list of some essential groceries in the meantime. And then we’ll talk about costs.” 

“Deal.” 

They shake hands for the longest while, neither wanting to separate, both having gone without a stranger’s touch for far too long. A spark is exchanged, from that mere joining of hands. touch. Hux lets out an embarrassed chuckle, eyes cast downwards as he moves away, but stops at the edge of the door, reluctant to part just yet. 

“Oh, and do remember to get some sun as well, miss (Y/N). It’ll help for vitamin absorption.” 

“Sun? With this terrible weather, doctor? Why, I’m already like a creature of the night, if I say so myself.” 

“Oh, you're speaking to one, miss (Y/N). Our portrait sessions will have to be rather late with the schedule I keep.” 

It was all good jest that only teased a bit of truth. 

But one thing was certain, one greater truth. That night, Armitage Hux left Scarparus feeling as if life had been returned to his undead body.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter basically consists in establishing their initial bonding. Things will pick up in action in the next chapter! <3  
> By the way, this work was not beta-ed so apologies for any mistakes! (english is not my first language)

A week had passed since Hux had been to Scarparus. A sleepless week, for his mind _could not_ stop turning no matter how much he willed it to turn off come morning. Hux was a stubborn man by default, so he would never admit, whenever Krennic would tease, that he had been enchanted by the lady of Scarparus so quickly. 

_“Scarparus!? I can’t believe I missed that call, how was it?” Krennic had asked the next day of Hux’s visit, over a cigarette break, right before switching shifts._

_“It was better than I expected -- I was preparing to be swept by some ghost or what have you. Silly tales. The lady of the house is all alone up there, Miss (Y/N). I believe she is the youngest?”_

_“Only child, indeed. Wonderful parties at that place, back in the day. I wonder what happened to the rest of them. One day, they just -- poof! -- went away. No one even noticed.”_

_“She didn’t say. But things are certainly grimm for her.”_

_“If someone as wealthy as a (L/N) is struggling, that can only be testament of the state of Arkanis. Hopefully better days are coming upon us.”_

_“Certainly.”_

_Krennic’s eyes had lingered, a smug face stretching around a cheeky grin. “You look concerned, Hux. Looks as though your mind is somewhere else. Does that have to do with (Y/N) (L/N)?”_

_“Just what are you implying, Krennic!?”_

_“Oh, you know. You’re a lonely man. Has she stirred something in that cold heart of yours?”_

_If Hux could’ve drained him of all his blood right then and there he would’ve. Alright, maybe it was an exaggeration. Plus he’d be out of the job without Krennic. And even then, he didn’t drink from humans -- too many dead bodies would raise suspicion in such a small community._

_“Oh stop it. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

_His superior had just laughed and left the subject be, patting Hux in the back and shaking his head._

_“Just remember, my friend, I’m an old devil. I have all the life experience to know that something_ is _on my dear Hux’s mind.”_

Krennic was mad. That was the end of it. Hux was but a good doctor, helping out a patient in need. _Going out of his way_ , to help a patient in need. 

He had sent out a package to Scarparus with groceries and several bottles of medicine for Miss (Y/N), to which she had replied with a postcard. It was an image of the Mansion: a photograph taken from a point of view that captured the sea, signed on the back with a brief _“Thank you, x”_ in black ink. 

He had placed the postcard on his bedside table, staring at it intently every dawn, mind venturing into the wide realm of stories that could be uncovered from Scarparus _and_ its maiden. Tossing and turning in bed, evading the sunshine, he’d grasp the image and stare longingly at (Y/N)’s handwriting.

He wondered if she had been feeling better since her first consultation. If she was bed ridden no more, back to creating, opening up the windows so that daylight could kiss her skin -- something he could not indulge in. Feeling the sun rays on his skin, that is, not the other thing. 

Now, when he pulls up to the Mansion at the first stroke of dusk, he no longer frets over the jagged road. He’s giddy -- so uncharacteristic of him -- which makes him overlook all the other gruesome details of the surroundings, the moaning of the willow trees as they relented against the strong currents of wind. He even disregards Ceera’s frightful jump with which she receives him, yet _again_. 

“Dr. Hux! I’m sorry, it just-- your shadow looks creepy from here. Do come in!” 

“That’s fair. I suppose, with the moon coming from behind I must look like a dark blob, don’t I? Here, this is for Miss (Y/N)” 

He hands her another bag of groceries while stepping inside, and Ceera takes his wet overcoat and leaves it to dry on a hanger. 

“Terrible weather innit, Doctor? Spooky? All that thunder” 

That evening had been particularly terrible, advancing onto October at last. And if one thing was characteristic about Arkanis, it was its terrible downpours. One would think that living near the sea would be peaceful, but Hux could only imagine that the sounds of the crashing waves and roaring thunder would create a haunting soundtrack for someone as easily rattled as Ceera. Hux though, given his nature, felt rather attuned to it -- embraced by the eeriness in the atmosphere that rose every October. 

“Really? I myself enjoy evenings like these.” He says so to mess with Ceera for pure sport, snickering inwardly when her eyes go as big as plates. 

“How peculiar, doctor” she stutters, “The missus is upstairs, she should be in her bedroom. She’s expecting you.” 

“Thank you, Ceera.” 

He walks the path he had learned on his previous visit, among the creaking floors up to the room on the bottom of the hall, that no longer seemed like a sight out of a horror novel to him. The door is halfway opened, so he gently pushes it, “Miss (Y/N)? Can I come in?” 

From his spot he can catch a glimpse of the mistress. She stands, in a white cotton gown and a lace shawl around her shoulders, overlooking the ocean from her window. In her long-sleeved dress, contrasted against sporadic lightning bolts, it puts Hux in mind of the maidens from the pages of Edgar Allan Poe. 

“Doctor! I’m so pleased you’ve made it despite the overcast.” 

She genuinely beams at his presence, when she turns, smiling like no one’s ever smiled at Hux before. He had only ever known scowls and cold shoulders. 

“I just told Ceera that I happen to enjoy this kind of weather, actually.” 

“You do? Well, would you look at that! I do so as well. It’s an excuse to indulge in a hot beverage and get cozied up in bed, but I do worry for all those who have to keep on with their businesses despite these conditions. Look! come closer...” 

Hux goes to stand beside her to follow her gaze. 

“I’ve been watching that group of fishermen sheltering themselves from the thunderstorm. They’re probably waiting for the weather to ease, poor things.” 

“These are hard times for businesses in Arkanis, indeed. This town has really struggled to get back on its feet after the war.” 

“I know, I just wish I could do something.” 

Instead of looking down at the fishermen, Hux is suddenly entranced by her forlorn eyes, lost in her features that were still toned down, albeit the faintest blush could be seen coming back to her cheeks, and the fact that she was standing up without getting sick was good progress. 

She turns to him, in the midst of his inspecting, and they both share a look that lasts a tad longer than what was common for two strangers. Neither one of them speak, they merely look on -- both a mystery for the other to solve. Hux willfully ignores the urge to know what could be transpiring inside her mind in that moment, If she was just as fascinated by him as he was with her -- however doubtful. 

Through the years, Hux had become a master at locking his emotions away and he’d keep it that way, regardless of the circumstance at hand, even if a faint voice within him protested. 

Armitage Hux had lost most of his memories after the bite of the Parnassos bat, but if there was one thing that remained as sharp as one of his scalpels, was the way in which he had always felt imprisoned by loneliness. Being in a room full of people could never mend that crack he felt in his heart. Solitude everlasting, from his childhood, trespassing onto his eternal life. Not once had he known of the touch of a lover, a caress -- had never known of reciprocity for his affections. 

During his life in London, he had managed to land a job as the private doctor of the Organa-Solo’s, a family of renowned senators. Hux had fallen in love with their son, Ben, as was his birth name, which he later changed to Kylo Ren in order to distance himself from the high society life he was birthed into. Kylo was a dream: with his rebellious attitude and imponent build; dark edges in harmony with lips of the plushest berries, eyes of the richness of chocolate, black curls of the silkiest of pillows. 

Hux was sure, _so_ sure that something would flourish between them. _So sure_ , because of all those endless, lingering, _tender_ stares; because of the way that Kylo would orbit near, as if Hux contained the secrets of the universe and Kylo had to inch the closest to not miss them. It had to be! Hux was _certain_. All the signs pointed to it, when they had agreed to run away together. They were set to meet at the harbour at midnight. And Hux had been there, waiting and waiting until his skin had started to itch, signaling that dawn was approaching and Kylo was nowhere in sight. 

To pierce a dagger through his heart might’ve hurt less; to fist all of his insides and yank them out of him might’ve been kinder. As sunlight ascended, he saw them: Kylo meeting at the harbour with the nasty old rat that was Mr. Snoke, the vilest man in all of England for his political beliefs. He saw the man put a hand around Kylo in the manner of a father embracing his own child as Kylo led them both to his personal ship, _The Silencer._

Never again, would Hux give in to sentimentality. His only lasting friendship was with Gwendoline Phasma, she was the only one that knew of his condition. But he rarely ever saw her, as her work as an archaeologist would lead her to the farthest extremes of the world, for such lengthy periods, that he wondered if she ever got lost in alternate realms of time while exploring lost civilizations. 

So now, when (Y/N) notices that his eyes have hardened, she looks away in fear of spoiling their budding relationship. Thankfully Hux is quick to ease her back. 

“Let’s go ahead with your check-up, Miss (Y/N)” he amends with a gentle tone. 

“How many times will I ask you to simply call me (Y/N)?” she’s relieved now that the tension has calmed. 

“At least once more, Miss.” 

They sit on a corner of her bed and Hux repeats the same notions from their first check-up. He’s glad to note that her blood pressure has normalized, but is still quite low. “It will take some time, Miss (Y/N), but you’ll get better.” Hux says once he’s through, packing up his things in his medical case. 

“I sure hope so, doctor. I want to take up my art again without fainting in between. Speaking of which, come! I’ll show you my studio and we can get started on your portrait.” 

He ignores the tingling sensation in his palm, when she takes it to lead him through the house. 

“When my family left,” she says as she leads him to the east wing of the house, up the third floor. “I turned all these empty rooms into my studios. This one right here is the main one, I keep all my photography equipment here.” 

Inside is an ample desk with notebooks and plenty of albums scattered about; on the bottom wall, there’s an opaque curtain clipped to a pair of metal hangers opposite a tripod; another wall was lined with stands holding chemicals and tools to develop film; one of the corners had a vitrine that contained a collection of cameras and all sorts of accessories like flashes and packets of film rolls. He could not quite identify all the models of cameras except for an _Argus Argoflex -_ \- which jumped to his eye for its characteristic twin lenses. 

“I was hoping to take your portrait here and use the photographs as ref--” 

“Oh no, miss (Y/N)!” He immediately cuts her at the suggestion. “I-I’m not keen on having my picture taken, I um -- why don’t we do it the old fashion way? Why not do study sketches instead?” 

“Oh... I just think it would be faster and more precise if I take your picture--” 

“-- _Don’t_ fret about that, Miss (Y/N), there’s no rush.” 

“Alright, then…if you insist.” 

She looked skeptic, but he sighs in relief when she doesn’t press further. He would’ve given her a heart attack, if she looked through the viewer of the camera to find no subject reflected on it. 

She continued to lead him down the hall, and he muted his disappointment, when she didn’t take his palm to continue their tour. 

“This one here is the darkroom, but no sense in going in that one. And here’s where I keep all my oils, easels and all kinds of mediums to paint. You must prepare for the smell, it reeks of turpentine.” 

They enter the third room along the hall, which was the largest and the one that had the biggest windows to take advantage of all the natural light for her to draw in, which he realizes in awe, as she draws the worn-out curtains to milk the available light from the moon which bathes the room in pale, sapphire accents. 

“Take a seat, doctor” she indicates to a chair situated right beside the window. When he sits, she goes around the room, bringing up a couple of lamps that she sets around Hux in search for the ideal lighting to sculpt out his face. 

It’s a challenge, remaining calm as she fusses all around him, right in his space. So determined, so professional in her work, he couldn’t help but admire her. Her furrowed brow and her focused eyes, taking in every detail -- _his_ every detail -- in a clinical manner, almost. So similarly to his own craft. 

“So, tell me doctor,” she begins as she sits on her own chair, with sketching paper in her lap and a set of charcoals and graphite pencils beside her on a nesting table. “How come you take such late-night shifts?” 

He tenses but wills himself to remain still, trying to respond in an unsuspicious way. 

“I’ve told you before, _I'm a vampire_ , Miss.” He says in total seriousness, which makes (Y/N) break into a fit of giggles. 

A sound he wouldn’t mind hearing again. 

“Ahh, come on, Dr. Hux!” 

“I’m serious.” He smiles, but he’s mindful of holding onto his pose when she urges him so with a stern look between her laughter. 

It’s easy, he finds, talking to her once the conversation gets going. 

“It’s the arrangement I have with Dr. Krennic. The clinic was his when I moved here from London, so naturally I was the one that had to adapt to his conditions. He’s a pediatrician too, so. I got the night shift. I spend my days sleeping to endure the work.” 

“Must be an awful schedule to maintain, I imagine. But don’t worry, Ceera will come up in a minute with coffee so you don’t go falling asleep on me, doctor. I’ve asked her to brew enough so you can take home some with you.” 

_There it is_ , that timid stirr inside his heart with such a gesture. He doesn’t quite know how to reply so he retakes his joke from earlier. 

“But it's still convenient you know, since I _am_ a vampire.” 

She bursts out laughing and replies, “I take it you’re a fan of sci-fi literature then?” 

“Indeed.” He smirks. 

“I’ll have to show you our library then. My mother and grandfather were such bookworms, that that place has got to be the biggest room we have in the house. There are all kinds of books there, from all kinds of subjects. Dare I say our sci-fi collection is _impeccable._ ” 

At the mention of her family, Hux’s ears peaked up. He was still intrigued as to what had happened to the famous family that lived in Scarparus Mansion, (Y/N) had not said yet. But it was still too early to inquire, so he leaves it at that but makes a mental note to ask once they become better acquainted. 

They had talked and talked until the long hours of the night. He had always had trouble keeping up with conversations, but he and (Y/N) had more in common than he could’ve imagined. The coffee and biscuits that Ceera had brought up somewhere in the middle of the night had been long gone, while their conversation remained just as lively. It was even nearing his bedtime -- just a couple of hours now, before dawn. 

“Goodness, look at the hour! I’m so sorry to have kept you this long, doctor!” 

“Don’t apologize, Miss (Y/N), we both lost track of time. I’ve enjoyed your company immensely.” 

Hux is endeared by that light blush appearing on the apples of her cheeks -- barely there, if he hadn’t been staring so intently he might’ve missed it. She seems to notice this, casting her eyes downward as if trying to hide her grin at the attention. 

“I did too. You must come by more often, doctor. Ceera and I have been on our own for far too long. It’s nice to talk to someone from the outside world for a change. Here,” Somewhere along the night she had even brought up her coloured pastels to take advantage of their time together and do some color studies. “I think I have enough sketches to get started on the actual painting--” 

“--Oh wait! Miss (Y/N)--” he gently takes her forearms in his palms before she could lift the sketches up for him to see. “Let’s just keep it a surprise until the finished thing.” 

He isn’t sure if he feels ready to see his image just yet. So many years without...it had been a real balancing act to shave and cut his hair on his own. At least Phasma had been there at the very beginning to help. But he was afraid of what emotions might flare up upon seeing himself captured by (Y/N)’s perception. If she would capture his inner essence, or maybe the shell of who he used to be before. 

Thankfully she just laughs it up and neatly stacks the drawings inside a drawer on her desk. 

“Alright then, doctor. Let me walk you out.” 

They descend the staircase and (Y/N) stops at the kitchens to draw a concealed mug with the rest of the coffee for Hux’s drive home, before going to get his coat from the hangar at the foyer. 

“Poor Ceera was fast asleep at the kitchen table waiting for us. I’ve told her to go to her rooms, poor dear” she whispers, as if weary of disturbing any other resting soul despite them being the only ones in the house. 

“Thank you, Miss (Y/N)” When he’s all packed and ready to depart, he places a palm atop her shoulder, letting his eyes speak of the extent of his gratitude. It had truly been a marvelous evening, something he had not experienced in _ages_.

“I meant what I said, you know. That I hope you’ll stop by more often.” 

“I will, Miss (Y/N). Please take care of yourself, remember to take your medicine.” 

They exchange one last smile before he hops into his Ford Eight and drives off. 

Through the rearview mirror he can see a figure that had remained by the door, looking out at the horizon. Looking out _for him_. 

His heart _beat-beat-beats_ inside his chest, in a pace unlike anything he’s ever heard through his stethoscope before. It was more like the thrumming of a song, spreading throughout his body, making up for the warmth he was no longer able to feel. 

And he doesn’t even register it -- the content smile that had sprung on his lips, throughout the drive back to the clinic. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long ass chapter ahead! <3

_“My dearest doctor,_

_I hope this letter finds you well -- that business has been good and the week has treated you kindly altogether. I’m writing to let you know it would be our pleasure to have you over for dinner on the 31st. It’s our own little yearly tradition, and we would be honoured if you were to join us this time. We’ll be whipping up some special treats we only get to prepare on this time of the year. Please take this invitation as a sign of gratitude for everything you’ve done for us this past month. We await your response._

_PS. Isn’t it special that there’ll be a full moon that night?_

_Much love,_

_(Y/N), X_

He had clutched the letter with such fervour when he brought it from the mail. Her smell still permeated the envelope, and he could imagine her, scribbling away with the same precision with which she approached her artwork. He’s read her words so many times that they dance around in the ballroom of his mind each time he closes his eyes. Now, the letter sits on the right glove compartment of his car as he excitedly drives to Scarparus.

He could no longer ignore it anymore, the hunger. When he tends to his patients he hallucinates how their carotid pumps, carrying the liquor he so craved. To drink their blood, a temptation like the one Persephone faced when presented with those pomegranates, but it was one he could not give in to. He had to compensate with the poor substitute that was animal blood.

All this struggle, because he had kept his word to (Y/N) that he would visit often. In doing so, he had broken his own rule: his fondness for her had surpassed the bond of patient-doctor, or even that of close friends. Sometimes it seemed as though they had met a long time ago; a pair of old souls reuniting, recognizing each other in this lifetime.

The month was almost up. And like the ochre-colored leaves, falling from its branches as winter slowly approached, he had fallen, but with the strength and pace of the Arkanisian downpours, all at once.

He pulls up at Scarparus in his best tweed suit and waistcoat, trying to control his growing smirk. He had replaced his usual medical case with a bottle of wine in one hand, and a bouquet of roses in the other.

When Ceera opens the door she’s no longer afraid -- has come to expect him with how much he has been visiting.

“Evening, doctor!” She has an autumnal wreath hanging on one her shoulder and strings of sparkly garlands on the other.

“Come in! I was just decorating while dinner’s in the oven.”

“Need any help?” He says as he hands over the bottle of wine to Ceera before she heads up to the kitchen.

The place had come alive for the occasion: all surfaces were lacking their usual film of dust, and every single ornate had been polished, shining as they were illuminated by decorative candles all around, painting the interiors with vibrant, earthly tones. The kitchen area was covered with all sorts of tools and baked goods cooling off, with an array of pumpkins of all sizes and faces adorning the tables.

“Not at all! No peakin’ just yet! We’ll be eating in the main dining room. The missus’ will be down in a mo--”

“--No need to wait! what have I missed?” (Y/N) supports herself on the kitchen’s door frame, with one hand on her chest to calm her winded breath.

“Miss (Y/N), are you alright?” Her exhaust is the first thing Hux registers, before he even gets a chance to appraise her attire for the evening.

“Yes, it’s alright! We just had an awful lot to do to get this place back in shape, didn’t we, Ceera? But I’m well, doctor, don’t fret! Are those for me?”

Beyond her breathlessness, she looks radiant. Her smile is disarming, easing Hux off of his initial worry.

Only then does he really look at her: he had only seen her in lounge wear before, but tonight she’s wearing a fitted black dress, with a low crossed neckline, short capped sleeves and a long trumpet skirt that barely kiss the floors; her hair is styled in flowing waves and while he was used to seeing her with a clean face, her make up highlights the features that he had grown enamoured by.

Ceera, who stands on the corner opposite them, pretends not to notice the display going on before her, hiding her grin with the autumnal garlands.

“Yes, here” He extends his arm rather clumsily.

“These are so beautiful,” she says as she inhales the aroma of the roses, regarding Hux through the petals with longing in her eyes.

“I’ll have Ceera put these in a proper vase. Thank you, doctor. Come!” she takes his hand in hers and leads him out of the kitchens.

From her spot, Ceera shakes her head knowingly, sending out good wishes to the two fools that were too immersed in their own heads to not speak out on their affections.

“I was hoping that, while we wait for dinner we could make some progress on your portrait, doctor. I’m mostly finished, all I need is to refine some little details. Having you here will be best! There’s just some things you can’t capture from preliminary sketches, you know?” (Y/N) says as she leads them up the staircase, hand in hand.

“You’re nearly finished!? That was fast, Miss (Y/N)”.

“I work faster when I have a subject I like”

She flushes -- she hadn’t meant to let such a thing out, but thankfully Hux doesn’t mention it, too flustered on his own.

“And please, do call me (Y/N). Tonight you’re not here on duty, you’re my guest. My dear friend.”

If he had had any body heat to him, his hands would’ve been boiling, sweating, with how quickly his heart races inside.

“Only if you call me, Armitage.”

“Deal.” She looks at him and squeezes his hand while continuing their journey up.

Hux notices that she’s grasping his hand tighter than normal -- _too tight_ , and her breath has become ragged as they ascend to the third flight of stairs now.

In a flash, he’s catching her just as her legs give up, clinging to him to prevent the fall. “(Y/N)!?”

She’s panting, eyes shut as she fists the fabric of Hux’s coat.

“Ohh, just -- give me a second -- my head is about to explode.”

Hux gingerly sits them both down, with (Y/N) on his lap and head reclining on the crook of his neck as he soothes her back.

“ _Phew_ , just -- give me a moment. All this tidying up the house and getting things ready for dinner exhausted me.”

“You shouldn’t have gone through all this trouble, you should’ve continued to rest.”

“But it wasn’t any trouble, I wanted to.”

“At what cost.” He’s so stern with her, all of a sudden, shaking his head. It only makes her laugh ever so faintly against his chest.

“Hey, don’t be so mean to me. For that, I’ll have to make you carry me upstairs.”

“I've got a bad back, (Y/N).” It’s such a relief to hear her laughter again, despite how weakly. She always maintains such high spirits even when sick.

“You’re a strong man, doctor! You’re just lacking the will. Come on then, let’s get to the studio. Wait until you see the killer portrait I’m painting for you.”

“I’d rather wait until you finish it -- love a good suspense, as you know.”

He helps her up the stairs, “Careful, (Y/N)”, interlocking hands like before, but now he has his arm secured around her waist while she holds onto his side as they make it to her studio, where he’s made to sit exactly like he did on that first session.

Only this time, she’s standing incredibly close to him, with a grand-sized canvas before her. As she paints, she inches closer still to him in intervals, focusing on every minute and singular detail that she might’ve missed on her sketches -- those that could only be captured by having her subject in the flesh.

He realizes the shift of power is really doing something to him: he’s subjected to her in this environment; she has the upper hand, as he bares himself for the taking, for her to extract and model and elevate into a work of art. He finds that he yearns to be in this position for the rest of his time; wants to be hers, wholly.

He’s salivating, fangs aching to sink into flesh and _drink,_ and it’s exhilarating, this test to his control.

Thankfully her conversation is light, or else, he might’ve blacked out with want, right then and there amidst her art supplies.

It’s arduous though, when she’s in the perfect distance to lean in and _kiss_.

“It occurs to me, I never really asked. I know you like literature, but...do you actually like the plastic arts? Or was this all just a big favor for me?”

“I do like it, but I’m more of an architecture man myself. Scarparus is astonishing, if I do say so.”

“Scarparus was actually my grandfather’s design, he built it from the ground up. He’s a civil engineer himself.”

His attention spikes up. The subject of her family still hadn’t come up throughout his visits -- they had always been too busy conversing on a number of different subjects that managed to deter Hux’s mind from that initial voyeuristic curiosity. He had become far more interested in getting to know her for who she was, rather than indulge in the gossip that surrounded her family.

“Oh, really? You know if I hadn’t become a doctor I would’ve been an engineer. Don’t know about civil engineering, but I do love aircrafts and cars. I find technical drawing fascinating.”

“My, I could’ve never done that sort of drawing. But it was my grandfather who taught me all about focal points and perspective. I’ll show you his work, if you like! I must have his drawings somewhere over here--”

She goes to browse through her drawers in search of her grandfather’s work, and Hux takes the advantage to bring up the subject.

“Can I ask you something personal, (Y/N)?”

“Shoot”

“May I inquire -- what exactly happened to your family?”

The mood shifts _radically_. Tension floods the room -- so sharp and tangible you could cut it with a knife, and Hux regrets opening his dumb mouth the second he sees her shoulders flinch.

“Why do you want to know? Are you going to tell all -- that you’ve uncovered _The Great, British Mystery_ of Scarparus Mansion?” Her harsh tone is unlike anything he’s heard from her and it pains him.

“Why would you say that? I just want to get to know you, you’re all alone in this hou--”

_“--Really?_ Are you sure all of our time together hasn’t been leading up to this? I’m not a fool, Armitage. I’m aware about all that’s said about me, about my family, all those ridiculous rumours. Do you know how hurtful they are? I...I don’t know if my family’s safe. I know they made it out of the country but I haven’t heard from them in so long. They have not returned a single letter.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again, meanwhile I get to hear all kinds of crazy stories about them!”

“No they’re not spies, or ghosts, or _traitors_ \-- whatever that may mean. This place, which my family built with so much love and care, is _not_ ‘haunted’ and I expected more from you--”

Hux gets up in a flash, goes to take her shaking hands in his, and pleads, _pleads_ , before she could continue.

“--(Y/N), please. I just wanted to get to know what happened to _you_ , I care about _you_. I’m sorry that I asked. Please know it was never my intention to hurt you. I’ll be truthful: at first I was indeed curious about all that fuss. But I’ve gotten to know you over our visits, and, please believe me when I say that I care about you, deeply. I will not ask again. Please, forgive me.”

Her gaze is stoney as she regards him -- studying him yet again, like she did when she was detailing her painting.

Sometimes Hux thinks she possesses this ancient knowledge, able to read a person’s intentions with a single look. Yet she’s hard to read herself. He doesn’t know if he might pass this silent test she puts him through.

After being suspended in that liminal space, she tightens her hold in his palms and instructs him to sit. From another one of her drawers she pulls out a hefty album that she hands to him, and begins her tale while standing beside the window, looking out, as if she could see the ghosts of her family, dancing on this Hallow’s Eve in the gardens below.

“My family fled, when the war began. My grandfather was too old but feared he might be recruited, what -- with his career as an engineer and all. And my mother was a top linguist, though she had suffered for most of her life with heart complications.”

“You know, for such a diverse town like Arkanis, it’s not exempt from the plague of all small towns. It was all good fun, when we people wanted to feed off of our money, our status. But as soon as the war broke, everyone was ridiculously quick in pointing fingers at anyone who was even the slightest different from the bunch. Calling them out and shaming them -- and those were the very same people that could be seen drinking our wine, taking our food. Everyone turned their back on them, for coming from a different culture than theirs. So it was easier for them to say that they became ghosts or monsters, or what have you -- than taking account of their biases.”

Hux’s heart constricts the moment she pauses and merely looks out, with all the sadness in the world contained in a pair of such beautiful eyes.

He takes that time to open up the album and is met with the faces of the people that (Y/N) was missing. He saw his lovely artist in each of their faces; in her grandparents and her mother, a tiny group of people, whose essence was so grand that he could feel their luminous energy as he flicked through each page, overcome with admiration.

“They all fled to the land where they belong, where there’s sunshine. Don't get me wrong I do enjoy the English cold but -- after a while it gets too depressing. My body was meant for the heat. I yearn for it, and for the colorful fruits and flowers and houses -- you know, back there, there isn’t a single house or business that looks the same, like how it is in here. Every single building has its own little quirk -- every person, really. I yearn for their humour, for the place where the dead and the living share the same land, amidst marigolds, cheerful music in the streets, flavorful dishes. Passionate people, all around.”

“They wouldn't bring me with them, I was already too sick. I couldn’t have endured the long distance of the trip. And they wished me to continue my art studies here, they were looking out for my future. But I _miss them_. Like I said, I haven’t heard back from them in so long, that I fear the worst. They’re my _everything_ and it pains me to hear them talked about with such disrespect.”

Her words are uttered between hiccups, for she had started to tear up halfway through. Silent tears run down her cheeks, and she turns further away from Hux, not wanting to be seen as weak. “So, _there!_ Is that the big reveal you were after!?”

He’s determined, as he stands and reaches her side to whisper (for fear of disturbing such a delicate moment with words uttered too loudly).

“If I ever gave you the impression that I would turn away from you because of your heritage, then I have failed you. For one, as your doctor, but most importantly, as your friend. I’ve come to care about you deeply in this short span of time. And the last thing I’d want to do is to hurt you. I’m sorry to have put you in this distress, I really am.”

He hesitates on his next move but ends up taking the risk: ever so gently, he places two fingers beneath her chin to guide her gaze back to his own, then wipes away those tears with his thumb.

“I’ve never told you this either, but my family’s originally from Ireland. My father was in the military, and he hated our background so much that he abused me as a kid. He wanted to be a proper Englishman, wanted to erase everything that made him who he was. Imagine his fury when I came into the picture: I was a bastard child from an irish kitchen woman; he hated everything I represented. I’ve erased most of those memories, but what I mean to say is that I understand, to a certain extent, the cruelty of those who hate other human beings out of bigotry. I cannot compare situations, however. And I’m sorry to have fallen for those stupid tales of ghosts before. I should’ve been more conscious, more critical. And I bow to you, that next time I hear something of the matter I’ll be quick to speak up in your defense. I _swear_ it. But I will understand completely if you don’t want me around anymore.”

His heart could’ve stopped and he wouldn’t have noticed, with how intently they have their gazes fixed on each other. There’s (Y/N) again, measuring him out despite her eyes being red-rimmed and wet.

“I knew I could hear the faintest roll of your r’s when you speak.”

He notices he still has his palm placed upon her soft cheek, unconsciously leaning towards her, Sooner than they realize, they’re noses are separated by the thinnest of hairs.

“Thank you for confiding in me, (Y/N).” Hux murmurs, breath ghosting over her cheek.

“Thank you for listening to me. I trust you, Armitage. I forgive you. Please don’t make me regret it. I’ve been hurt too many times.” She nearly goes cross-eyed to look at him -- eyes dancing between his own and his lips.

“I would never, (Y/N). I--”

_“-- Miss (Y/N), Doctor?”_ Ceera’s loud calling cuts through the moment. “Dinner’s prepared! O-oh...I’m sorry…”

_Fucking hell,_ Hux thinks _. Just my luck._

(Y/N) laughs it up and detaches from Hux to turn to Ceera. “Thank you, Ceera, we’ll be right down.”

As soon as Ceera leaves, they exchange a conspiratory smile, as if they were now well aware and alert that some unspoken barrier had been crossed.

In a moment of courage, Hux lifts her palm to his lips to place a chaste kiss on her knuckles, before heading downstairs.

\---

“My, will you look at that! This feast may be just what I need to feel better.” (Y/N) exclaims as the three of them take a seat. “Ceera, your duties are officially relieved, sit and help yourself, please! Let’s all dig in and enjoy!”

The dining room is truly a sight to behold, with the flickering lights of the candles that dress-up the room like a magical, autumn dream. Paper cut-out pumpkins were hung from the sparkling garlands that dangle from corner to corner. While not as extravagant as the menus from other dinner parties he has attended before, the display of foods and wine looks amazing, arranged in harmony with more candles, tiny decorative pumpkins and lavish cutlery. There’s a roasted chicken at the center of the table and on its sides a bowl of mashed potatoes, caramelized vegetables and freshly baked bread, with snacks that varied from biscuits, bite-sized cakes and savory pastries with different kinds of fillings.

The mood is festive and light. Hux feels full with pure warmth -- even if it’s a trick of his mind for he hadn’t felt a glimmer of warmth in so long, even if he couldn’t really taste the food. Although his sense of smell was heightened, and the richness of everything he whiffed at was _unbelievable_ \-- almost enough for him to recreate in his mouth.

It’s priceless, the _present_ , amidst laughter, good conversation, and music playing from the gramophone. He dares to say that he feels at home, at last. And the sight of (Y/N)’s color returning to her cheeks is just the cherry on top of a wonderful time.

When most of the food has been eaten, (Y/N) stands up. “Alright, Ceera, it’s time to bring in the star of the evening.”

“May I help?” Hux asks.

“No, no, no, this is a surprise! I bet you’ve never tasted anything like this before.”

(Y/N) and Ceera disappear into the kitchen and when they return, (Y/N) is holding a tray with a ceramic coffee set and one large clay pot, while Ceera brings in a platter with what looks to be a large dome of bread topped with some bumpy decorations on top, covered in sugar. They set everything on the table and while Ceera serves up the coffee, (Y/N) cuts a piece of the bread for Hux.

“Ceera and I just _love_ All Hallow’s Eve. Around July or August, we start to plan out our special dinner, and this bread is always a must, it’s an old family recipe from back home. The coffee has an extra kick too. Here, what do you think?”

He’s never been more resentful of his condition than in that moment. He wanted so fiercely to be able to taste what (Y/N) had prepared, had put so much care into.

He could merely close his eyes and humm in appraisal, “what’s in it?”

“The bread has got orange zest and a pinch of cinnamon, topped with sugar. The crusty, bumpy bits on top are meant to symbolize bones and phalanges, isn’t it funny? This dessert is considered an offering to the dead in some cultures. The coffee, we mixed it in the clay pot, and it’s spiked with cinnamon and pumpkin spice, with the slightest hint of clove.”

As Hux closes his eyes and fantasizes about each ingredient described, he can conjure up the taste, flooding up his taste-buds and mean it when he says, “this is amazing, (Y/N). You and Ceera have thrown the most marvelous party.”

They beam at the compliments and serve themselves their share of bread and coffee.

The rest of the evening is spent playing games of charades and recounting spooky stories. Time flies by, and before they know it, their party has gone way past midnight -- only realizing it when Ceera lets out a hilarious yawn.

“Ceera, you’ve worked too hard today, go to sleep, dear. I’ll take away all the leftovers and we can always clean tomorrow.”

“Bless ya’, Missus. If you don’t need anything else from me, I’ll be excusing me-self. Good night, doctor.”

“Good night, Ceera, thank you for everything. Sleep tight.”

After Ceera leaves, there’s an edge to the air that neither addresses. A sort of nervous excitement, given what had transpired earlier. They awkwardly clear out the dining room and put away all the leftover food.

“Um -- Would you like to walk with me in the gardens? There is the full moon tonight, remember?” (Y/N) looks expectantly at Hux, biting her lip.

“I would love that.”

There’s a door through the kitchens that leads directly to the backyard. Before they step outside, Hux is quick to retrieve his coat from the dining hall and drape it around (Y/N). She silently responds by hooking her arm in his and resting her head on his shoulder as they go to tour around the moonlit haven in the back of the mansion.

They’re so content, so calm, as they walk about the many vines and bushes and trees.

The space was ample, as if the estate had come with its own enchanted forest. Although a tad unkept, the beauty of the blue peonies and lilies sprung wildy all over, in contrast to the weeping willows that swayed with the breeze carried from the sea; leaves and branches moving with the serenade of the crickets and night birds that had also come to see the spectacle of the Harvest Moon in full splendor.

Deep within the gardens, they reach a gazebo with glass panes and white columns, in which they shelter themselves in, to keep on admiring the night’s wonders.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” (Y/N) sighs while looking up, cozying up against Hux.

“It most certainly is, (Y/N).”

Her hand had come up to rest atop his chest, dangerously near to where his heart beat erratically at the closeness, the intimacy. He can even feel the puffs of her breath as she speaks against him.

“Thank you for coming this evening, it meant a lot to us. To _me_.”

“Thank you for inviting me. And I must reiterate, thank you for having confided in me, you know, earlier. I truly did not mean to disturb you, I felt awful.”

“Water under the bridge. It’s just -- a very sensitive subject. If anything, I think, it has allowed us to get to know each other better.”

“I’m most glad about that.”

She hums in agreement and nuzzles in closer.

“I must say…” she pauses for a moment, as if unsure, weary of speaking with her heart on her sleeve. But he encourages her by squeezing the hand she had placed atop him.

“I must say, I cannot begin to tell you how happy I am, to have made a friend out of you. I’ve been alone for so long, Armitage. Don’t get me wrong, I love being on my own, but, sometimes it becomes too daunting for me to bear.”

He inhales a deep intake of breath, for _he knows_ \-- oh hells, does he _know._ Does he know of that eternal ache in one’s throat, or that persisting sense of melancholy for something you’ve never truly had.

Hux wouldn’t know then, because she didn’t confess, but at that point, she was in too deep, mirroring his own feelings. Painting someone’s portrait always implied a dose of infatuation with your subject; every stroke of the brush like a loving caress, especially when she painted his eyes, his nose, his lips...such imagery had transferred to her dreams, in which she saw them together, chatting as they were now, but not as _friends._ And always, upon waking, the imminent disappointment of having only experienced an ephemeral fantasy.

It sounds as if he’s pained when he murmurs, “I know, believe me. But you don’t have to be alone anymore, (Y/N). Neither of us have to…”

There were times when the line between dreams and real life became blurred. When vivid dreams revealed truths that could not be played out in the living world. How else could she explain the strange phenomena that’s unfolding around her, as Hux looks down now, with the same icey eyes that spoke of love in her dreams.

Unconsciously, they had both turned and were now facing each other, with her hands fisting his waistcoat and Hux’s own enveloping her back.

They inch closer, and closer still, just like they had earlier.

“How come you’re always so cold?” she whispers against his lips.

“I don’t know, my genetics maybe?” Their breaths puff against each other’s mouths as they break into a fit of timid giggles.

“Why don’t we warm you up then?”

And that’s it.

When (Y/N) looks up, her eyes are changed -- they’re not playful, but _begging_ , intense.

In a flash, Hux backs her up against one of the pillars. Her hands fly to his neck to bring him close and his own tighten their hold on her lower back, pulling her up so that she could wrap her legs around him, chests pressing together as their lips meet.

Their tongues swirl together, and their hands grasp, and clutch and _press_ , as moans are exchanged between eager mouths.

Hungry, _hungry_ kisses -- kisses between two people that had been starved for far too long, messy kisses. So debauched, so demanding, that when they groan it’s with absolute relief, with victory, with relish.

Hux’s lips travel up her nose, to each cheek; wet kisses that leave a trail along her cheek and chin, down, down, down towards the lovely column of her neck.

_Her neck_. Where her scent is concentrated -- _that_ scent. For all its lack of iron, that first whiff of her blood sent him spiralling down with mad, _mad_ desire. Her scent was only sweeter, without that edge, nothing else. Like drinking tea instead of bitter coffee. It didn’t make it any less _mouthwatering_.

He nibbles her neck for the longest of time, with just the barest tease of his sharp canines. And rather than creep away, it seems to excite her even more, arching her back with wanton moans so that he could take everything, raking her nails through his hair, loosening it up from its gelled up styling, to bring him closer still.

“ _Armitage_ ”

His name is most welcomed when it’s sighed, when it comes out of those beautiful lips that he needs to kiss again and again -- and so he does. Her hands rest on his cheeks to hold his head in place, urging him to never, ever stop kissing her.

She freezes momentarily, when they pull off for air. Her eyes squint, shifting her focus between his eyes and lips and he stills, when he realizes.

In the heat of the moment, his pupils must’ve gone dramatically darker than the average man aroused; his fangs must be in full show.

He wills himself to calm down, for his features to shrink back to normal or else he might have to carry on with a conversation that might drive (Y/N) away, before even having her.

“I-is this okay?”

“Yes, it’s just -- I thought I saw…nevermind,” she shakes her head, blaming it on her poor eyesight, the effects of the moon and the general mysticism surrounding the Hollow’s Eve.

She continues to regard him, with just as much passion but with an undercurrent of tenderness, _yearning_. Her thumbs massage his boney cheekbones, then his plush lips -- eyes studying his face this close, not in the role of the artist but a person in love.

“Stay the night” she whispers, before kissing him again, hugging herself to him, arms locked around his neck and legs encasing his hips.

“I wish I could,” a kiss on one corner of her lips, then the other...

“I moved,” a lick to her mouth…

“...all my appointments,” tongues entwined, dancing together…

“...to tomorrow, to have today free,” pleasured humms, spilled into each other’s mouths, and all the while their groins could not help but rub together of their own accord, seeking friction -- that long awaited release.

“Ohh, please, Armitage…”

“I’ll come back,” he grinds against her as they continue to devour each other, more forcefully each time, with each phrase uttered against her lips or her skin. “I’ll come back and we’ll spend the whole evening in bed.”

“ _When?”_ she begs, begs, begs, moans getting higher as pressure increases in her core, even through all the layers that separate them.

“Ohh _fuck_ , (Y/N)” he can’t even think straight, so he buries his face in her neck once more and rotates his hips to ease off the tingling sensation on his hard cock.

“Next week. I’ll--I...Let me arrange my appointments, give me a chance to…”

“ _Yes, yes, yes!”_

Sadly the fit of her dress didn’t allow for him to sneak his hand underneath to pleasure her; sadly he was too far gone to make his erection last and put it to a better use; sadly their relief was muted down by those damned layers of clothing, but it came. Unhurried and mild, but nonetheless incredible. Because they were together at last, against all odds.

They remain joined by their mouths that glistened with spit, breathing in each other’s space, lips lingering without fully closing on a kiss.

With (Y/N) scratching Hux’s scalp he’s able to land back on earth and speak.

“Give me a chance to move my appointments and I’ll let you know immediately. We’ll lock ourselves in your room and make love all evening, all night.”

“Do you promise?” she smiles against the corner of his mouth.

“I promise.”

They remain tangled together, until (Y/N) begins feeling drowsy sometime along the night, with her head tucked against Hux’s neck, lightly pecking the shell of his ear from time to time.

They had kissed their way into November.

They had walked, embraced, back to the inside of the house and (Y/N) had prepared another canteen of her special coffee for Hux’s drive back.

And he hadn’t taken off, before sharing one last kiss, how could he? Now that he had consent, he would kiss her at every given opportunity, until their lips chapped, all through the night until the first peak of sunlight. He had even let her keep his coat, as a token of his promise to come back and make good on his word.

That night, she had slept with the coat draped around her, with her darling doctor’s smell surrounding her.

Then something strange had happened.

She had been awakened by faint chirping outside her window -- some creature flapping its wings around.

She wasn’t sure if, what she experienced had been within the realm of dreams, or if it had actually happened. But the creature hadn’t been a bird like she had expected, but a _bat_. A curious one at that, with auburn furr instead of the common black or grey.

In a trance, she had let it in and with a quick blink of her eyes, the creature had morphed into a person, but she could not make out its features. It was but another shadow amongst the rest in the dark of her room. An elongated shadow, like a lean, gangly man.

Next thing she knew, she had been snuggly nestled within her blankets, in the brink of sleep, when she felt arms envelop her from behind, cozied up against her.

An embrace she could’ve recognized anywhere, a _scent,_ she had come to love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: descriptions of blood/medical procesures that involve needles/illnesses/hint at character death (but don't fret, nobody dies in this fic!! this is a happy story lol.

Something isn’t right. 

When one becomes immortal in the way that Hux has, while his sense of taste and his body warmth dissolve, other senses become heightened. 

A soon as he wakes his heart drops to his stomach with the force of a bomb erupting, hands clammy just as the phone’s sudden shrills cut through the silence of his home -- yanked off of his slumber, of dreams of his beautiful artist who he had not seen in five days, for work had piled up to his dismay. At least, he hadn’t seen her in his _natural_ form.

When he answers the call, it’s like deja vu, but this time he throws down the phone in a flash, and rushes off to Scarparus.

\---

 _“WHAT HAPPENED!?”_ Hux demands as he storms up the stairs in the direction of (Y/N)’s room. 

“Missus had been complaining about feeling tired. She was reaching from something up the kitchen’s cupboards when she fainted and hit her side”

“--WHY didn’t you phone for me earlier on!? 

“I called as soon as I laid her down, doc--”

“-- _NO!_ I meant -- why didn’t you call as soon as you noticed that she was feeling ill again!?” 

“She has been taking her medicine, she has! I’ve make sure she eats but---I-I, uh, missus told me you were busy, she didn’t want to bother you -- says it would pass--” 

“--WELL we could’ve avoided this altogether!” 

He’s furious, like the man he used to be before he had gotten bitten by that bat. Sometimes he’s convinced that he was bit as punishment, for all the bad he had once projected onto the world -- even as bad as Brendol had been. In that heated moment, poor Ceera had become the target of his rage although he didn’t mean it, he was just extremely worried. 

His heart shatters when he enters (Y/N)’s room, seeing her drenched in cold-sweat, laid down on her side, with her nightgown hiked up so that towel-wrapped ice could be placed along her thigh up to her hip. She’s fisting the sheets just like she first did once upon that first meeting of theirs. 

_“Darling”_ he says, instantly kneeling by her bedside, taking her face, unable to contain the need to touch her.

“Armitage…” she mumbles through her clenched jaw and half-lidded eyes. 

“What happened, my darling?”, “ _CEERA,_ please, draw her a bath of cold water and bring some of the medicine that I’ve brought, something to drink like orange juice, quick!”

Ceera rushes to the right wing of (Y/N)’s room towards her bathroom to fill the tub, then flies downstairs to the kitchen, while Hux carefully removes all the towels from (Y/N)’s side, getting an eyeful of the gruesome bruises splashed all over. He gingerly helps her to stand, supporting almost the entirety of her weight on him so that she would not fall on their way to her bathroom. 

“I--I fell...Armitage, you’re here...” 

“Shhh, darling” 

_“Armitage…”_ her speech is slurred as she moans in pain and clings to him desperately -- simply standing up causes her entire head to spin and ears to buzz.

“I know, my darling, I know, but we have to get you all cleaned up.” 

He wasn’t joking the other day, when he said he had a bad back, but to hell with it. After he helps her undress, he squats down to take her legs in one arm while holding onto her upper back with the other to sweep her up bridal style, and slowly, inch by inch, lower her down into the tub. 

She flinches and adheres to him in pain as the cold water comes in contact with her skin.

“Shhh, shhh…” his lips touch her forehead in a poor attempt to soothe her until she stops shivering. 

Hux’s chest clenches at the sight of (Y/N) within that tub; drained of all her color and eyes more sunken than ever. And it’s the first time he’s seeing her naked but he can’t even appreciate her beauty with a clear mind, for he can only worry about the black and blue marks that go down her side and other bruises scattered in random places. 

He’s so focused on (Y/N) that he doesn’t even realize how Ceera stands in a corner, paralyzed, gaze flicking from the mirror in front of the tub, back to him, with eyes as big as the moon. 

Hux turns and regards her, side-eying the mirror and knowing _instantly_ what she sees -- or rather, what she _can’t_ see. If she wasn’t frozen before, with one look Hux could’ve had her transformed into a stone figure. 

_Do not bring this up right now, we will talk about it later._

She seems to understand because she nods and without prompting, goes to fetch her missus’ a clean camisole to wear for when she’s pulled from the tub. 

A lengthy moment passes before (Y/N) stops shivering, with Hux soothing her hair back from her forehead, and when she’s calmed, she’s made to swallow a spoonful of medicine down with juice. 

When all is tranquil, Hux helps her to stand up with Ceera immediately by her side to towel-dry her and help her into her sleeping gown, before both of them help to walk her back to the bed. 

He wastes no time in going through the routine check-up and he’s disconcerted as to how, after more than a month of treatment and diet implementation, the symptoms hadn’t changed. He sighs, rubbing his eyes to will his brain to answer him, _why, why, why, why was this happening?_

He always got his diagnoses right, he always succeeded in bringing his patients back on their two feet. So why now? 

“I don’t understand. Your pressure had been slowly coming back up to normal. Could it be that you’re on your period, (Y/N)?

“No, that was two weeks ago, Armitage. I have been feeling fine, honestly. I have my good days and bad days, I’ve been following your instructions” 

“Well frankly this is concerning, (Y/N).” 

He gets up and goes for his medical case to retrieve two vials, a syringe, gloves and a bottle of alcohol and cotton dabs. “I’m going to take a blood sample and you’ll have to fill this other vase with urine tomorrow morning on an empty stomach. I’m going to take these for examination to the hospital -- we need to figure out what exactly is the problem.” 

He prepares her arm with the alcohol and cotton dabs and to then find her vein and inject her. 

When the needle of the syringe sinks in her arm, pulling her blood from her vein -- crimson red and succulent blood -- does Hux have to exercise every last ounce of self-control, every bit of strength for his hand not to shake as he handles the tool that extracts such sweet, sweet honey. It smells amazing, looks just as appetizing, _oh dear lord,_ he thinks. There’s the discomfort of his fangs swelling inside his mouth, his pupils dilating, and so he keeps his eyes cast down, mouth pressed into a hard line. 

He takes a deep breath and concentrates on cleaning up and sealing everything correctly to take with him, almost hunching on himself in case either (Y/N) or Ceera might catch a glimpse of the monster coming to the exterior. 

“I’ll take this with me today and I’ll be in tomorrow evening for your urine test. Ceera will you please meet me downstairs?” 

Ceera had remained wide-eyed the entire time, regarding him. She can only nod, too spooked to do much else, and leaves him and (Y/N) alone. 

“ _Hey_ ” (Y/N) mumbles from her place on the bed. “Don’t be mean to Ceera. She was just scared, is all. She worries about me.” 

“I know” he sighs, squatting down to be at her eye level and running his fingers through her wet locks. “I was too, which is why I want to apologize to her.” 

“She really is a good kid, please be kind. Thank you for coming on such short notice, by the way.” 

“Why didn’t you call for me earlier if you had been feeling unwell?” 

“I wasn’t feeling _that_ bad and I know you’ve been very busy. You _do_ owe me an evening, you know” She arches one eyebrow, smirking through her tiredness. He couldn't help but laugh at her spirit -- so lively despite being ill. 

She places her palm on Hux’s face -- one thumb soothing over the sharp contours of his cheek, his jaw. “I was really looking forward to knowing what it’s like to be _intimate_ with you, my dear doctor.” 

Laughing, he holds her hand in place atop his face. “Let’s get you back on your feet first and then I’ll make good on my promise.” 

“It’s a deal, _Dr. Hux._ ” 

He kisses her forehead and whispers against her skin, “Get some rest and _eat_. I’ll be seeing you.” 

Downstairs, the ambient is tense between Hux and Ceera. 

She hovers over the kitchen sink, pondering, unsure of what to do, where to look, until Hux comes down and instantly she straightens up -- eyes like the ones of a deer caught in headlights. 

He stands, measuring her out, trying to find a way to break this to her easily. “Well, this is awkward,” he sighs. 

“Uh -- doctor…Umm…” Ceera mumbles for a long while, unable to land on a coherent thing to say -- she’s flabbergasted to say the least. 

“Listen, I know, alright? I know what you saw. And yes, there’s an explanation for that.” 

“Is there?” 

“Yes. And I’m going to explain it to you. But you have to _promise_ me, that it will remain a secret. Do you?” 

Ceera gulps loudly with tredipitation before nodding her head. 

“Alright, why don’t we take a seat.” 

They both seat themselves at the kitchen table and Hux takes one big intake of breath before he begins, eyes staring off into the distance as he recalls the past events of his life. 

“Alright. I’ve been this way, for sixty-eight years. I was thirty-five years old when this happened. I was trying to kill my father. My friend, Phasma, was an archaeologist, and she had brought home this exotic bat from Parnassos Island that everyone had been trying to hunt to study because its bite was said to be venomous. At least that’s what Phasma told me. We were going to use it on my father. He hated me, since the very moment I took my first breath. Needless to say, my childhood wasn’t easy, and as I grew up the abuse got a lot more terrible. But I digress. That damned thing had started flapping around on the night we were moving it to Brendol’s office. And well. The animal bit _me_. But I did not die. I don’t remember much else about what happened afterwards and I remember even less about how I -- I don’t know -- _adjusted_ to this lifestyle. I just knew, organically, what to do all of a sudden, what to avoid. Hell, I’ve been on this earth for a hundred and two years now. I thought -- well, vampires _had_ to be something of _myths_ , wouldn’t they? Of horror stories? Well, let’s just say Bram Stoker knew a thing or two.” 

“A--are ye serious doctor?” 

“Why would I invent something like that!? Yes, it’s true. I sound like a maniac, but _it is_ true! Why do you think I only come here during the evenings?” 

Ceera looks as though she was doing maths in her mind. 

“Oh! And no, I don’t “drink blood from human beings”, so don’t be frightened. I drink from animals.” 

That didn’t help one bit either, all color draining from Ceera’s youthful face. 

“D-does missus know?” 

“She doesn’t. Not yet anyway. But I don’t mean to push her away, if I tell her. I…” he debates on whether he should confess of his affection for (Y/N). But Ceera catches Hux’s distraught frown and her initial shock eases down, if only a little bit. For someone so young, Ceera was just as proficient in reading people’s intentions, much like her employer. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to travel all the way from Scotland on her own. The country was a harsh mistress for Glasgow maidens like Ceera. 

She smiles, shyly -- weary for the doctor’s tale but a bit more confident knowing that he meant no harm, neither to her or her missus. 

“I won’t tell, doctor. Ma’ heid’s mince, but, yer secret’s safe with me. This all feels like a dream.” 

“Believe me, it is real.” 

Hux’s tone turns sour at that, for the bits of his memories he could recall flash by before his eyes. If only he wasn’t this way, if only he was normal still...maybe he could’ve had a chance at a new life, with (Y/N) by his side. Then again, if he hadn’t been alive today, he never would’ve met her. The curse of the vampire could be seen as a two way street. 

A moment of silence passes between them, both inside their own heads. On the other end of the table, Ceera has her eyes cast downwards, fidgeting with her fingers as something still troubles her mind. 

“Doctor? What will happen to Miss (Y/N)? Is she going to be alright? I...I don’t--” Ceera chokes up on her words at the mere image of (Y/N) in danger. “I don’t want her to be bad anymore. She’s a friend, more than me missus. She’s all I got.” 

Ceera’s sorrowful eyes are potent enough to add more drive to Hux’s objective of curing (Y/N). He reaches closer and places his hand atop Ceera’s on the table. 

“I promise you, Ceera. I swear _on my life_ , that (Y/N) will get better. We just have to work as a team to make this all easier for her.” 

Ceera’s weight on her shoulders slightly lifts at Hux’s words. Besides, if someone of Hux’s nature swore on his _life_...then the passion for the cause must be undeniable. 

“Thank you, doctor.” 

They exchange a kind smile that signified a new understanding -- the beginning of a new kind of friendship, as it were. Ceera offered Hux some baked goods as snacks to take back with him, and as she walked him to the door, Hux reminded her that he would be coming back tomorrow to collect (Y/N)’s sample.

They said their amicable goodbyes and Ceera quietly observed the doctor, putting on his fedora hat and walking off into the night, becoming one dark, backlit silhouette blending with the fog. 

It all made sense, she thought. 

And maybe, _just_ maybe (for she hadn’t asked), the high-pitched chirps she had often heard in the dead of night right by the missus’ window, had belonged all this time to a familiar creature, rather than the poltergeist she had imagined, haunting Scarparus. 

\---

Vensenor Hospital is just halfway between Arkanis and London -- quite a modern facility, for a post-war society. It’s all polished and pristine, and it’s there in the bone-white hallways that reeked of chloride and ethanol, that Hux can be found walking aimlessly in his medical gown, waiting to receive (Y/N)’s results after nearly five days since he brought them in. 

Krennic appears from one of the many lab rooms, eyeing the contents of a paper folder with a frown in his face. Hux’s insides revolt in discomfort at Krennic’s disposition, immediately feering the worst. 

“Orson?” Hux asks. 

“Yes, well you were certainly right about her anemia, but it may just be more acute than we thought. With the treatment you had prescribed there could’ve been a greater improvement by now, but, this doesn’t reflect any other problems other than that?” 

“That’s strange. Are you sure about this, Orson?” 

“Take a look for yourself,” Krennic says as he hands the folder over to Hux. Just as he had said, everything came out as expected, but there was a nagging voice in the back of Hux’s head that insisted that there was more to the problem. 

“What do you suggest?” 

“I’d say keep on doing what you’ve done. Up her dose of iron supplements. Maybe her case will just take far longer to improve than average. You know...there was a case of this American doctor, Sidney Farber, I’ve been hearing all about it. His treatment of patients of Leukemia with aminopterin have been successful. I’d say if this was Leukemia, we could try that out but, Miss (L/N)’s records do not indicate such.” 

“Thanks, Krennic. I’ll take these back to the clinic and then I’ll let (Y/N)” 

“Oh, so we’re on a first name basis now, are we, my friend?” 

“Oh, shut up!” 

He leaves in a huff, leaving Krennic chuckling by himself on the emergency doorway. 

It’s dangerous, as Hux drives along the long trek from Vensenor to Arkanis with the downpour, raindrops drumming against his car with the same intensity as his beating heart. He’s so unnerved that it’s as though he’s driving under the influence. Something wasn’t right. He simply knew it, a gut feeling, a sixth sense. 

When he finally arrives, he’s fast in placing an order for more iron supplements to get shipped over, for Arkanis had lots of limitations in terms of medicine and instruments. By the time he’s finished with the process though, it’s too late in the night to go over to Scarparus. 

In person, that is. 

The dynamics of morphing are unknown to him. It’s an organic process that simply happens before he’s aware. One minute he stands on his two feet and then at the blink of an eye, his body is floating in the air, vision shifting, weightless as he exercises his new set of appendages and _flies._ Nevermind the rain, nevermind anything at all as he carries himself with purpose over to his destination. 

He has been going over the same path, as much as he could, ever since that Halloween night. To (Y/N), his nightly visits felt like vivid hallucinations, yet each time, she leaves her window open as an invitation for him to enter. As he does now, sliding in through the sheer curtains that flow with the wind, almost translucent as they overlap with the moonlight. 

With another blink of an eye he stands as a man again, or rather a master of the night -- a dark being, trapped in that transition between man and monster. He slithers in with the fluidity of a snake and his cold eyes pierce through the shadows like a night-hunter in lust for prey.

He stalks forward until he’s close enough to kiss -- noses barely grazing one another. 

And when she opens her sleepy eyes and sees him, her smile is as bright as the sharp moonbeams that illuminate the room. 

_“Armitage?”_ She’s grinning right against his mouth, which she’s eager to entrap with kisses, encasing his face against her gentle palms, kissing and kissing and kissing as if the cure to her illness could be found on his lips. 

“Am I dreaming? How come I always have you when I need you most? It’s too good to be true” She sighs into his mouth, hands travelling downwards to rest on the nape of his neck to scratch his fine hairs; at the same time he teases her pulse point with tender thumbs, caressing her neck as it’s so blatantly exposed to him when she lies face-up on her bed. 

That neck...he can’t help but kiss his way down to nibble on it, on that long, beautiful vein that throbbed for him alone. The temptation to bite it was too grand, but he fights it by nestling his face on the warmth between her neck and the pillow. 

The warmth? 

He could _feel it,_ somehow. A tiny glimmer of heat. 

He plunges in desperately, seeking it, basking in it. What was going on? how was he able to feel warmth? He could not stop to question it though, he’s compelled to kiss that spot until he leaves a mark, over and over until it tickles her, and then he scoots back up to take in those giggles right into his mouth with another kiss. 

She holds on to him for safety when the monster overpowers his control and he becomes desperate with touches, grasping and squeezing and kneading every bit of her that’s covered in sleepwear, along the road from her breasts, her stomach, the sides of her upper thighs, every last curve, every line. So, so desperate, bringing her legs to wrap around his hips to dive in and rub against her, in perfect circular motions that he knows will elicit moan after moan after moan for him to swallow down. 

They keep kissing until they both feel like they’re drowning -- drowning in kisses, drowning in love and passion and anything else that feels good and pure and wonderful, _just_ wonderful. 

They separate from each other gasping for air like one would after being underwater for far too long, remaining suspended in time, with their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in. 

“Armitage, is this real?” she whispers. 

He holds her gaze, battling with himself. Should he break the spell? Should these precious moments be left in this secret realm between dreams and reality? In this moment nothing can hurt them, there was no disease permeating their relationship, no bounds. 

He answers with a tender kiss to her forehead, a prolonged kiss that lasts until her eyes close again, giving in to a deep slumber. 

Better to leave it at that, in the sanctity of her bedroom with the moon as their confidant. 

\---

Nearly two months pass. 

The leaves had completely died; the rain turned to hail, turned to snow -- dropping with a storming impetus. 

Hux felt like he was trapped inside of one, sucked inside a storm, blown up into the air to be thrown from the highest peak, falling, falling, falling on a downward spiral. 

(Y/N) had not recovered. 

Almost every evening, he dropped by Scarparus to monitor her process and aid Ceera with overall house chores. (Y/N)’s room had nearly become a hospital one. Tests had been done and re-done and there was no improvement to be seen. She was fading, and fading faster as time went by. 

At one point, the iron supplements he had ordered were just not enough. Somewhere along the line Hux had asked for a number of iron infusion sessions to take place. While bedridden, a catheter would be inserted into (Y/N)’s hand, attached to a long tube through which an iron solution was transported from an IV bag, right into her vein. 

It hadn’t worked. 

Many nights he would be found in the kitchen with Ceera, with his fists either clenched or his fingers rubbing his temple to try to unravel the formula to heal (Y/N). Ceera would bring him food and coffee, lots and lots of coffee in order for them to stay awake through the night and be quick in case (Y/N) blacked out. 

“Doctor?” Ceera had asked on one of those nights, passing him a refilled cup of coffee while soothing Hux’s tense back. “If we don’t know the root of missus’ illness...could it be, um...could it be that she’s simply tired? Or sad? I know it’s bonkers but -- we’re approaching the anniversary of when her family went away. On her mother’s birthday.” 

It was past the twelfth of December, indeed, (Y/N) had told him all about it. All about Christmases spent waiting to receive unwritten letters from her family, staying up all night in case the door opened to see them back home. With each year that passed, it had been growing impossible to deal with the sadness. 

And could it be? Could this all be a side-effect of a deep rooted sadness? His brain dictated him to believe in the facts, in that which could be resolved with science and reason. His soul begged to differ, however. After all, who could ever explain how it was possible to become a vampire? 

“I don’t know Ceera” he had replied through clenched teeth and restrained tears. “I don’t know but I’m running out of options.” 

“Doctor? This will sound even madder -- the stuff ye see in the pictures, but...can you, ya know...can you turn her? Is that possible?” 

He had gone silent at that. 

He had considered it, yes. 

But to be immortal was a punishment, not a prize. It was a sentence of living with your solitude forever. Watching people you cared about slipping away and having to carry on living with that burden. To live through social and natural disasters without the comfort of knowing that someday you’ll get your eternal rest as a reward for having endured. 

_Could he_ turn her? 

That would make her live, of course, but at what price. Maybe it was time to do something he had been dreading. Maybe it was time to finally confess. 

He had pondered over the matter for days, until he decided. 

It’s on a slow, weekend night, when he goes to her -- a night brimming with the kind of lethargy that comes when all is up in the air and nothing’s certain anymore, so there’s nothing else to do but to wait in the unknown, amidst the calm before a potential storm. Coins are tossed and they could land on either face. 

She’s half asleep, willing her hand to finish the sketch she was working on but the pencil kept on slipping from her fingers. 

“My love” she whispers with a hoarse throat upon seeing him, disregarding her drawing and extending an arm in invitation for him to join her on the bed. 

He climbs up beside her, pulling her into his arms. He has been doing that a lot, lately. If there was a silver lining, was that over time, (Y/N) and Hux had grown even closer. 

Most of Hux’s nights were spent nestled in bed with her; reading to her, posing for charcoal sketches. She had drawn up a whole series of anatomical studies based on him: his eyes, the slope of his nose, his profile and hands. Love letters, each and every last one of them. In bed, they had laughed while Hux tried to teach her the basics of engineering drawing with which she had failed miserably at, but so had Hux, when she had taught him how to properly draw the proportions of the face. Often, he would simply sit by her bedside, holding her hand until she fell asleep. On occasion, he would review his patient’s records while telling (Y/N) all about them, all about his experiences as a doctor. 

But the best of nights was when he let her use his chest as a pillow while his fingers caressed her hair, making sure that she fell asleep unbothered, always remaining close by in case a fever broke. 

But that had been the thing. Her temperature had been dropping, not flaring. He remembers that night, when he was able to feel a flicker of warmth. The more time he spent pressed against her, the more he realized that said warmth increased, but upon taking her temperature, the numbers indicated the contrary. Her body temperature was dropping significantly. She was turning colder and colder as time progressed. It was a case of diving into a freezing river: the more time you spent in it, you ended up imagining that the water had cozied up, making you swim amidst hot springs. 

Cold skin against cold skin. (Y/N) was _dying._

“How are you feeling, darling?” He asked with his lips softly resting on her forehead. 

“I’m okay. I took a nap earlier, and I dreamt of you, you know…” she turns on her side to rest her hand on his chest, drawing circles around the fabric of his dress shirt, toying with the bands of his suspenders. 

“What did you dream about?” 

“I dreamt we were dancing in the gardens, during the day. I was wearing a white dress and we were floating about the grass, laughing. There were lilac trees all around, and it was a summer’s day. It occurs to me I’ve never seen you in daylight. You would look so handsome, with the sun complementing your red hair.” She says while tracing her hand along his ginger locks, freed of his styling gel for having run his own hands through it in exasperation. 

He nearly weeps at her kind words, but he has to remain strong for what comes next. 

He sits up and guides her to do the same, facing her and taking her hands in his. 

“(Y/N), you’re not well. Not well at all, this -- this illness has overcome us. I don’t know what else to do for you to get better,” his chin wobbles, fighting to maintain his tears at bay. He was a doctor, god damnit, he had delivered bad news to patients throughout his career. But this was proving to be way more difficult -- just by looking at her beautiful eyes dropping lifeless. 

“It’s okay, darling, it’s okay. If my time has come, then so it has.” 

“ _No_ , no, don’t say that, (Y/N). There’s something you need to know, something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I must warn you, it will sound absolutely ridiculous, but I’m telling the truth.” 

“What is it, Armitage?” 

“ _Please_ , promise you’ll believe me.” 

“Of course I’ll believe you. What is it? Why does it trouble you so much?” 

He takes an intake of breath. It’s now or never. 

“Remember all those jokes? About me being a vampire? Well…”

“Don’t tell me you were telling the truth” she laughs, “you’re silly!” 

She stops when she notices that Hux’s face is just as stern as when he’s going over medical charts. 

“Oh, you cannot be serious? Who are you, Nosferatu?” 

But Hux holds her gaze. “Why would I joke in times like these?” 

She’s speechless, stuttering until she can find an appropriate response. Her eyes travel all over the room, aimlessly, not knowing what exactly did they seek, merely buying time. 

Then her eyes land on her window. The open window. 

All those nights, dreaming about a mysterious figure appearing out of nowhere, and that auburn bat. 

No, no, no, those were...those were dreams, weren’t they? All those discussions with Hux over literature, motion pictures...surely the images she saw at night were products of her brain processing those encounters, projecting said creatures into reality. Her eyebrows arch comically when all the equations add up, proving that somehow, Hux was telling the truth. 

“That -- that _bat_? Was that you? Was that you, all along? _How?_ ”

“Ah. Well, that’s the complicated part” He recounts the same tale he had revealed to Ceera before, watching as (Y/N)’s tired eyes steadily take everything in. 

“(Y/N) I believe that, the only way I can make sure you live is by turning you into a vampire yourself. Ceera suggested so, but I have my own restraints. You’d become an immortal like me, you’d lose so much. Living like this is so tortuous, you have no idea. I wouldn’t want to impose more suffering on you, I would never. This has to be something that _you_ want.” 

“So you’re saying that, there’s no other cure?” 

Hux nods, icy eyes imploring to (Y/N) that she makes the wisest decision for her, but conflicted by the fact that, should she refuse his and Ceera’s solution, then Hux would lose her. 

“I would live forever?” 

“Yes” Hux mourns. 

“With you?” 

Her question disconcerts him for a moment -- he has to make sure he hears correctly, “Sorry?”

“Would I get to spend that lifetime with you?” 

Something inside him swells, swells, swells with unexpected bouts of happiness like he’s never, ever felt. He blinks once, twice, three times to confirm that his eyes aren’t deceiving him. 

“You -- you’d want to?” 

“I do.” 

“You do know what this means? There’s too much to do to adjust, you’d have to give up too much, besides I’ve never really done this before, never turned anyone, (Y/N), what if--” 

“--I choose _you._ ” 

“(Y/N).” He sobs her name, “Please don’t do this as an obligation, please. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Armitage” she takes his face on both of his hands, shushing him down with her determined eyes. 

“I’ve been alone, all my life.” Her voice isn’t hoarse anymore as she gathers her strength to speak up. To speak up with her heart on the sleeve, as she always did. 

“I think the universe was just making me wait until I met you. If you’ll have me, I will love to spend the rest of our lives getting to know you. Our time together...my, sometimes I think I’ve met you for centuries. Sometimes one has to listen to their hearts, and mine is screaming to be with you.” 

He crumbles down, enveloping her in his arms and nestling his head against her shoulder, eyes scrunched close because he could not believe that what was happening in that moment was real. For he had also yearned for most of his life for a companion, a soulmate -- he never thought that he’d find his. When he dreamt about it it felt like such a foreign, far-fetched concept. 

“I promise I won’t make it painful for you, I’ll take care of you.” He says as his embrace tightens around her, words spoken through contained sobs. 

“I know you will. You’re the greatest doctor I know” 

She’s soothing her palm up and down his back, scratching the nape of his neck, his scalp -- tender gestures of reassurance that make Hux’s heart soar. 

They remain interlocked all through that night. And long after Hux had left, (Y/N) made one last effort to get up to see the dawn. 

For it would be the last time that sun rays would ever touch her skin. 

\---

He comes to her on the witching hour. The time of the night when the dancing dead roam around the sleepy fields by the sea. 

It’s pitch black all around, so much so that if it weren’t for his supernatural eyesight, he wouldn’t have been able to see her, sprawled on the bed with nothing but a lacey nightgown on, expecting him. But he can see, and he can also smell her blood singing to him from within her veins, now that he’s been allowed to quench his thirst. 

He’s only in his dress shirt and pants, shouldering off each suspender; as he stalks close to her, he’s unbuttoning his shirt, one by one, until he’s able to take it off completely. His flesh is so pale that it simulates marble, when each moonbeam stretches out to graze him. 

His fangs are pulsing and pulsing as he comes even closer, straddling her on the bed. The beast in him is fighting its way to the surface, his cock stands to attention at her heightened scent of pheromones and arousal and _blood._

He frames her face with each of his hands supported on her pillow and leans to take a deep whiff of that divine aroma concentrated on her and groans -- so weakened by her, so crazed. But he wants to make it last, has to concentrate. If he doesn’t perform correctly, he might end up killing her. 

“Do you trust me?” he sighs against her mouth. Her pupils are just as blown as the blood-thirsty predator that he truly is. 

“Yes” she moans, clinging to his shoulders and pressing her legs together, feeding off of his own excitement. She’s the one that jumps to capture his lips between her teeth before she tongues his mouth open. He retaliates by sucking harder, swirling his tongue against hers until they’re coming up for air. 

Meanwhile, he slips the frail suspenders of her gown off of her shoulders, kissing and nibbling each one. As the dress slithers downwards from her body, his greedy hands take in everything -- they cradle her breasts and knead them tenderly, thumbs grazing her nipple until hardening, as his mouth settles on the crook of her neck, the hollow of her throat. At his touch, she scratches ferally down the planes of his back, nails sinking into his sacrum to drag his core down against hers. 

Every single one of Hux’s fine hairs stands up at her grazing, at the lewd sounds slipping from her slick mouth. His touch on her breasts, on her sides and the valley from her ribs to her stomach becomes rougher in tune with his mouth that follows the trail that his hands leave.

Her hands come up from his lower back to sweetly cradle his skull and whisper right into his ear, “I’m ready...I’m ready, Armitage…” between light pecks to the shell, the lobe, the underside of his ear and then his jaw. He nods, hazed and untamed but present enough to kiss her lips one last time before their lives change forever. 

Her lips are grounding, and so he calms down as they kiss more gently than at the beginning. Light and loving kisses, promises of their future. 

With one hand Hux angles her face to expose her neck, while taking the other into his fist. She braces for the momentum, squeezing their clenched hands while wrapping an arm around his neck. 

He opens his mouth, revealing a pair of shiny fangs that sink in the jugular in a single _beat_. 

Hux groans as he swallows down everything, everything, everything up, all that viscous liquid, that succulent blood of his loved one, _fuck, fuck, fuck_ , It’s like a choir ignites all around him. It's like a symphony but it’s _her_ , letting out whines and whimpers that only increment in pitch the more Hux feeds from her. His eyes roll with how fucking, absolutely exquisite her blood tastes and he wants more, more, more. 

Her hold on his hand weakens but he grabs it tighter still, grounding her. She must hold on.

He drinks until she’s drained, veins emptied out to receive his own kind of venom that’s injected in the same place through his fangs in a similar fashion to when she had had iron infused from an IV. 

When there’s nothing left to give, he tentatively separates from her to see her resting beneath him. Head and hands limp on the bed, sprawled lifeless. 

_And now we wait_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, so, writing this felt like such a battle my friends. It took me so long because last weekend, my grandparents fell very ill so this past week has been absolute hell for me, so thank you for being so patient with me and waiting for the next update. I honestly thought I wouldn't finish the story, but now things have calmed just a little bit so it helped me a great deal to write and distract myself.  
> Originally, I was going to go into extensive detail about the reader's illness, but after what I've been through I just could not do it. I could not bring myself to write it up, it was too much. So instead I left it more open to interpretation, and in a way I think it works because I play it safe by not screwing up any actual medical facts. The doctor that Krennic mentions is real though! Sidney Barber. Apparently he's considered the father of chemotherapy.  
> Here are a few treats for having waited this long!  
> 1\. [Here's a Spotify playlist based on the story](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0uOak5thRZMfZQeON3yW7z?si=ruHGZ9h3TtSVmz_-a2h3bA). If you give it a listen I would LOVE to hear which songs you liked! <3  
> 2\. If you're curious about the bread and coffee they eat in the last chapter, below are some links! They are real things from the Mexican celebration of Day of the Dead.  
>   
> \- [Pan de Muerto](http://www.mexiconewsnetwork.com/en/news/gastronomy/pan-muerto-celebrate-day-dead/)  
> \- [Cafe de Olla ](https://www.mexicoinmykitchen.com/cafe-de-olla-recipe/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is my dudes, the last chapter before the epilogue! Thank you for having waited this long for the update. Enjoy the smut ahead <3

It’s been ages since Hux has been awake at dawn. 

Him and Ceera stayed up all night, securing the house of any possible source of daylight, for it was unknown to them, the time of (Y/N)’s awakening. His joints ache from having toured the entirety of the Mansion, covering up every window, every crack on each door, each corner. 

He groans when he stands up from squatting on the sitting room, battling with a stubborn hole that wouldn’t take the fabric they were using as cover-up. 

“Ye alright, doctor?” Ceera asks.

“Yes, old bones, you know.” He says while taking off his jacket to rub his lower back. 

“So what happens now, doctor?” 

They finish off their work in the sitting room and head to the kitchens, as that had become their usual spot to rest and talk when caring for their beloved (Y/N). To Hux, there was a kind of distant familiarity about said space. Sometimes when he sat there with Ceera, often helping her to prepare late night snacks or give her his opinion on new recipes, a slim woman with ginger hair would flash through his mind, but before he could even make out a distinct face, the image would be gone. 

“Well, for one she’ll be extremely thirsty. But we’re already prepared for that.” 

Hux had taught Ceera how to find the right arteries in rodents and fish. Frankly Hux preferred fish -- he could keep up the illusion of eating something that his human self would have eaten, and well, it was less disgusting than catching mice. Plus, if it helped the Arkanisian economy then all the better. 

“We must come up with an alibi.” He says as they sit themselves at the table, prepared for a long day’s wait, both with steaming cups of coffee to stay awake. 

“An alibi?” 

“Yes. Now that she’s technically dead, sooner or later we will have to move from Scarparus. People will notice when someone just stops aging. Throughout my life I have lived in several places, mostly around Ireland and England. Lived in France for a bit. But anyway. That’s something with which we’ll have to make ends meet with.” 

“Will I be going with you?” 

“Of course, Ceera. (Y/N) and I will be most pleased with your company.” 

“It’s just that...um. Can I ask ye something, doctor?” 

“Is something troubling you, Ceera?” 

“Not at all! It’s just that, all this time watching you work and helping (Y/N)...I really admire yer dedication, doctor. And I was wondering, if it was possible, for me to become a nurse? A doctor, even. Could I ever study for that? I’ve found that I really loved helping, knowing all about procedures and the like” 

Hux’s chest swells with pride at having ignited such a flame in young Ceera. It had been his life’s ambition to instill inspiration with his work. Sadly he had always been generally detested by people, granted he hadn’t always been a good person. It’s not as though people preferred to stay clear from him out of spontaneity, no. So for Ceera to approach him with this filled him with such joy that gives him the motivation to change his ways for the better. 

“Ceera, you can do whatever you set your mind to. If you want I can write you a reference letter, and anything you need, please, you can count on me. I’ll help you.” 

“Thank you doctor! I wouldn’t know where to start?” 

“What if I send you to Krennic? Maybe you can start out as his apprentice, while we find you a suitable school.” 

“I would appreciate it, Dr. Hux! Oh, thank you, sir!” she says with her hands framing her own face in glee. “But, do you think the missus will be sad? If I go away?” 

“That doesn’t mean you won’t be in each other’s lives anymore. She’ll be more than happy and proud of her darling Ceera going off to study.” 

Ceera’s enormous grin and sparkling eyes soon mute down, and they both go dead silent as they hear wooden shrieks descending the staircase.

They freeze, ears peaking to try and catch every nuance of said noise, of each stretched-out creak approaching. 

They’re not prepared for the sight. 

They remain paralyzed on the spot with eyes wide as they see _her:_ (Y/N) standing up without fainting, sweaty for having fought off the fever that had tried to get rid of Hux’s toxins upon turning her, but no less beautiful; she stands strong, dressed in a lavender sleeping gown, with some semblance of her color coming back to her. 

Hux’s feet act before his mind catches up, running to trap (Y/N) right into his arms in the tightest embrace he’s ever given. 

It’s heavenly, the way one of her arms drapes around his back and her other palm presses on the back of his skull, caressing his ginger locks, clinging to him with as much affection as he had for her. _It worked, it worked, it worked!_ Her face is scrunched up, nestled in his chest to breathe him in, as he too inhales the scent of her heap of hair. So this is what reciprocity feels like. 

Ceera shyly approaches, weary of disturbing the moment, but soon Hux separates and steps aside to let Ceera hug her missus. 

“Welcome back, Miss (Y/N)!” 

“Thank you, Ceera, thank you so, so much” 

“How do you feel?” Hux asks, voice soft with how awed he was, seeing her alive and well. 

Maybe not _alive_ per se, but. 

“So...good? I feel amazing actually! Probably better than I look” 

They all laugh while Ceera detaches from (Y/N), “I’ll go draw you a bath, miss!” 

“Thank you, Ceera, that would be too kind” 

After Ceera leaves, (Y/N) and Hux stand awkwardly, with Hux’s hands inside his pockets, and (Y/N) chewing off her lip. That nervous energy of those who have finally been granted freedom but the prospect seems daunting at first. 

“Will you join me upstairs?” (Y/N) breathes.

“I’ll catch up with you in a bit. I’ll go grab you a drink, you must be thirsty.” 

“ _Parched_ ” She says, holding his gaze. 

She goes up and Hux remains in the kitchens for a while, like a lost puppy trying to make sense of his surroundings. He just couldn’t conceive it. _This is it, this is it, this is it._ Forever starts right in this very moment. 

He grabs two glasses of blood and heads upstairs, nervous as he shoulders open the bathroom door only for his tremors to worsen at the sight awaiting him.

There in the bathtub, naked and languid, sits (Y/N), looking just as lost as he feels. He can’t even bring himself to look at her whole body in fear of stepping on some nonexistent boundary. He stands fixed on the spot, looking at her eyes while holding so much tension in his upper body. The barely audible sound of her breathing seems magnified with how dense the silence is between them. 

“Armitage” she whispers. “Won’t you come here?” 

He nods timidly and steps further inside the room, until he reaches the edge of the bathtub. 

“What’s that?” 

“Your new power drink” Hux hands her the glass of blood. Her pupils automatically dilate --inherently pining for it in this new form. It’s the most erotic thing Hux thinks he has ever witnessed, seeing her chugging it all down in one go and coming up for air afterwards. He drinks from his own glass to hide his swelling fangs, also as a pretext to avoid staring like a dumbstruck fool. 

“It tastes better than I thought” 

“Doesn’t taste like much, really. I keep imagining it’s that coffee you served me on Halloween,” he says while finishing his own drink and squatting down to sit on the floor. He disregards the glass and rolls up his sleeves to lean on the tub’s edge, at her eye level. 

“So, that night? You didn’t taste anything, did you?” Hux’s heart weeps at the disappointment in her tone, and he hopes to soothe that grief by carding his fingers through her hair, her cheek. 

“No, but you were wonderful enough to describe every single thing. I imagined those flavors in my mouth. Besides, everything smelt out of this world. Our senses are heightened in this form, you know?” 

“Hmm, makes sense. I knew I could sense a whiff of your skin when you were coming up.” 

“What do I smell like?” He’s all self-conscious all of a sudden, in learning about himself through her perspective. 

(Y/N) inhales dreamily, as if trying to get a finer intake of Hux’s natural scent, _swooning_ in the process. “It’s just -- _you_. It’s a clean, fresh scent with the slightest hint of a spicy cologne and a minty aftershave. But underneath there’s just your own smell, I don’t know how to describe it. I remember being enveloped by it, that same Halloween night when we kissed under the moon and you gave me your coat.” 

He’s all flustered and happy. Happy, happy, happy, like he’s never remember being. He takes her hand in his and gives her a lingering kiss atop her palm. 

“Senses must be heightened indeed, because…” she sighs, “your touch feels fiery against my skin.” 

They lock gazes, utterly debilitated by one another, unmoving. 

(Y/N) encases Hux’s face in her palms and brings him closer to her. “Won’t you come inside, Armitage?” 

“D-don’t you rather rest? You must be awfully tired” 

“I want _you_.” 

He knows the time has come, he’s been pining for so long that this seemed like such a distant event, nearly impossible. And now that his dreams materialize at last, he’s suddenly ridden with self-doubt. 

“I’m much too inexperienced, (Y/N). I’m afraid…” 

“I am too, darling. But please don’t fret, Armitage. It doesn’t have to be grand or explosive or anything spectacular, our first time together. I will love it, because it’s _you_. I want to be close to you. We have an eternity ahead of us, to try again and again and again, and I will be willing, every single damned time.” Her lips quirk upwards against his mouth while her eyes glimmer with nothing but kindness towards him. 

After a bout of hesitation, he mirrors her grin and dives right in to kiss her -- when Ceera interrupts them, yet _again_. 

“Oh! Oh -- uh, I’m so sorry missus, doctor, I just came to drop ye missus yer clean robes.” 

“That’s alright Ceera, just leave them on the vanity chair, please.” 

All parties laugh nervously, with Ceera rushing and trying not to look at the pair, while (Y/N) and Hux remain comically still -- as if they would not be seen if they didn’t move. After Ceera leaves, they burst out laughing at the recurrence and merely give each other a light peck on the lips. 

“Come, I want to show you something in the studio.” 

\---

_“Close your eyes”_

Hux lets himself be guided by the hand through the hallways, up to (Y/N)’s studio. He senses her turning on that faulty electric lightbulb that always flickered at odd times and mourns when her hand slips off from his. Judging by the sounds, he can practically see her in his mind, going up to the center of the room and pulling off the kraft paper that protected the painting. 

She comes back and takes both of his hands in hers, leading him further into the room and taking a deep breath before squeezing his palms and whispering, “open your eyes.” 

He falters in his stance as he’s met with the portrait. 

He’s…well, how could he ever describe the feeling? Awestruck? It’s an unnameable sensation, that which spreads all over and around him, fuzzy and short circuiting, _and, and and!_

It’s the very first time he’s seeing himself in sixty eight years. 

And it’s _her_ interpretation of him, every line and shadow came from her hand; every stroke of paint sculpting up the apples of his cheeks, the plumpless of his mouth, his fiery hair in contrast to the cold tones of the chromatic composition. And his _eyes_ … the eyes are the most astounding part -- crystalline, piercing green. The chiaroscuro accentuates all of his sharp features, but truly sets the image for the _eyes_ to jump out. 

_It looks as though I’m alive in the image_ , Hux thinks. _Alive_ despite having been technically dead for too long. His portrait looks as real as if it’s about to leap out of the canvas and start talking. 

_Dorian Grey’s portrait would take a hike next to his, thank you very much._

“What do you think?” 

He can’t conjure up words to answer how he’s feeling so what comes out instead is, “Why do I look so angry?” 

(Y/N) laughs, coming up to drape herself on his side, head resting against his chest. 

“You always look kinda angry. Nonetheless handsome, though”

Hux doesn’t see, because his eyes are fixed on the painting, but in that moment (Y/N) looks at him with such adoration, that it would’ve melted his cold, dead heart if he were to look down. 

He smirks at her remark but tries to hide it, never having been complimented like that. She of course notices, and lifts herself up to her tiptoes to grasp his chin between her fingers and guide his face to hers. 

“You hadn’t seen yourself before, had you? It just occurred to me” 

“No, not since I turned,” he says in a shaky breath. “Thank you, (Y/N). Thank you so much.” 

“No need to thank me. If you’re happy with it, I’m happy.” 

“More than that.” He softly replies, eyes travelling between her eyes, her lips. 

Both of them inch closer at the same time, meeting with the barest press of mouths -- merely pillowed against one another. 

They stay that way for a while, breathing together, moving leisurely before their pace picks up and soon Hux guides (Y/N) back to the nearest wall, with so much earnestness that when she thumps against the solid wood, multiple cases full of oil tubes clatter down around them, making them laugh amidst their kisses. 

Hux has never laughed this much, in all his hellish time on this earth, he muses in between kisses. Not ever, not even when he was an innocent child. There along the oils that had oozed out of their tubes, the mess of brushes on the floor, the pastels that had crippled to dust, a bundle of laughter and kisses is what they became.

Until Hux yawns accidentally, to which (Y/N) can’t help but giggle at. 

“You haven’t slept have you?” 

“Not at all, it’s quite early in the morning. Can’t remember the last time I was up during the day.” 

“Then let’s go to sleep, my darling. Are you going to work later?” 

Hux groans at the prospect of having to leave just when (Y/N) has finally bettered, although he must act like a responsible adult and tend to his patients. He’ll have all the time in the world now though, to be with (Y/N). 

“Sadly, yes. I have a heap of patients, I’m afraid. It’s the season of the flu.” 

“Then let’s get you some rest, my darling doctor.” 

They retire to her room and strip until she’s in a clean sleeping gown and he in a white wife-beater and boxers for underwear. At last, Hux doesn’t have to cuddle up to her while she’s in a trance like in one of those midnight visits from before. No, they’re both fully present, together officially, as they accommodate in bed within the cozy sheets, with (Y/N)’s head snuggly pillowed on the crook of Hux’s neck. 

“Can I visit you at work?” she murmurs on his skin. 

“Do you know the way?” 

“Yes, of course” 

“But how will you get there? I’ve never seen any cars parked around here” 

“Well, now I have other means, I imagine.” 

Hux looks down to meet a pair of mischievous eyes, and he can get a pretty good idea of what’s going through her mind. 

“Just be careful of not getting caught.” 

“Don’t you worry.” 

They share one last kiss before they’re both drifting off to sleep the rest of the morning off. 

They doze undisturbed, for all is well now. 

\---

“Yes, well your problem is your heart, Mrs. Wilson. It’s not doing its job properly, and that’s what’s causing the shortness of breath and the swelling.” 

“Couldn’t it have been something I’ve eaten?” 

“I’m afraid not.” 

Hux is detangling his stethoscope from around his neck as he catches the sound of something -- akin wings flapping around outside the window, before going off in the distance. 

As he finishes with Mrs. Wilson’s diagnosis, he senses a certain someone arriving at the clinic, standing by in the waiting room. 

When he walks out it comes as no surprise when, there amongst the patients sits his beloved, feigning interest in a medical journal to try to cover her playful smirk. 

“Ahh, Miss (L/N). I didn’t have you scheduled for an appointment tonight?” 

He says for pure show, knowing full well that she had asked to come see him earlier. 

“That’s okay, Doctor Hux, I can wait.” She responds with the sultriest tone, playing along with him to have the rest of the people in the waiting room imagining, suspecting...it was exhilarating to toy around with the instance that Dr. Hux -- Arkanis’ own Mr. Scrooge might be involved in a little affair of his own. The town loved its gossip, after all. 

“Alright then, Miss (L/N)” He adds a wicked smirk of his own, “Right. Mr. Elli, if you please.” 

(Y/N) turns to the book once again, but there was no disguising her grin. Nor Hux’s, as he adjusts his white robes and signals for his next patient onto the examination room. This goes on four more times, until the very last patient exits the clinic, leaving (Y/N) and Hux all alone. She slithers into his cubicle, creeping up behind him while he cleans up. 

“So I finally got to see you in action, my dear doctor. What a sight you make, all professional.” 

“Miss (L/N), I will have to kindly ask you to make an appointment next time. I don’t do walk-ins.” 

“Oh?” She slips her arms around him, head nuzzling his back. “Didn’t I let you know in advance this morning, in bed?” 

“You were rather inexplicit about the time.” 

“Tsk, Doctor, I thought I had special treatment?” 

Hux turns around, a smirking mess, gathering her in arms. “That would be unprofessional of me, Miss (L/N).” 

She giggles, palms smoothing up and down his chest to pose, “Are you coming back to Scarparus or are you heading home?” 

He knows exactly what she means, nervousness kicking in. “Oh, um. Wherever you feel most comfortable.” 

His unease is so tangible, that she surprises him when she answers, “why don’t we go to your home?” 

She was thinking of his comfort rather than her own. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course. You’ve been over Scarparus for so long, you must yearn to rest on your own bed for once.” 

Hux takes a deep breath and nods rather stiffly, for what would she think of his place, in contrast to the opulence of Scarparus? He lived in a poor excuse of a flat that didn’t even have much proper decor. She sees his worry and takes his hand in hers in a reassuring grip, standing on her tip-toes to better kiss his cheek. 

After they finish cleaning up and locking the clinic for the night, they walk hand in hand the few blocks it takes to reach Hux’s home. 

He’s anxious as he opens the door and lets (Y/N) in, flicking the lights on to have his sad, empty little home revealed. He really only has the bare necessities: a blue couch, a coffee table, a small wooden table practically squished in to fit the space between kitchen and living room. He’d give himself this though, he may have had little furnishings but what he had, it was top quality. However small, his fridge and stove were state of the art, his throw blankets and cushions were of the finest wool, and he maintained his home spotless. 

Hux watches (Y/N) move about the space so naturally, without any hint whatsoever of the disapproval that Hux had been imagining. Surprisingly, she was the one to ask, “are you thirsty, darling? Would you like me to get you a drink?” when sensing his consternation. 

“Oh, yes,” he shakes his head at his own awkwardness and poor hospitality, “the fridge is over there, let me get some glasses.” 

(Y/N) snorts upon opening the fridge and discovering the rows and rows of crimson beverages inside. 

“Is this all fish’s blood?” she asks without disgust, rather amused. 

“It’s good for the economy, and your body for that matter.” It’s such a Hux-like response that never fails to make (Y/N) laugh. 

“You never, ever drink from humans?” 

“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Open the freezer.” 

She does, and (Y/N) is met with red popsicle-like tubes, all stacked in rows. 

“Now, those I freeze to drink on special occasions. Whenever I have to take blood samples from patients...let’s just say that not all that blood goes on to be examined.” 

“You’re full of surprises, Dr. Hux!” 

The mood lightens up, and they both sit themselves in the living room to chat the night away, with their drinks in hand and a pleasant fire coming from the hearse. 

Afterwards, when their glasses have emptied and the flickering flames have died down a bit, there’s an acute awareness once more, of something that has been left pending. 

“Do you want to go to bed?” Hux sighs, so, so quietly. He needn’t worry, he _knows_. Still, he couldn’t shake his nerves. They could only postpone that which they were both craving to do for so long. 

“Lead the way” 

Hux nods tensely and grabs her hand to lead her to his bedroom. 

He doesn’t dare flick on the light, but she doesn’t push. They stand in the middle of the darkened room, facing one another, gazing. 

The moon, their ancient accomplice, serves as the only source of light that paints a straight line from the window, to his bed, as if signaling, “ _here is the place, this is where you shall be freed.”_

She starts by unbuttoning her dress, from the top buttons that run all the way down to her waist, revealing the lace details of her bra. She shoulders off each sleeve until the dress is loose enough to slip down her body, revealing her underwear -- her stockings clipped on by a garter belt. She bites her lip, unsure of what Hux is feeling, so she takes his hand and guides his trembling fingers to unclip each of her straps. 

Hux’s mind is simply a buzz. He can’t think, he can’t act. She’s aiding him to unwrap herself, making it easier for him to just take and yet he’s still tense. 

“Will you sit down on the bed for me, darling?” she whispers, to which he swiftly nods and obeys. 

As he’s sat, she climbs in his lap, arms around his shoulders. To have her weight upon him feels glorious -- he’s so lucky to have this beautiful being on top of him, surrounding him. His best friend. She’s so, so gentle as she caresses his cheeks with her thumbs, his neck, his lips. Her actions ease him down a little bit, and he dares to rest his own palms on the curves of her hips, massaging circles on her waist. 

“It’s just me,” she murmurs against his lips. “You’ve kissed me so many times before” 

He doesn’t look at her, eyes cast down, fixed on her collarbone to avoid crumbling down by meeting her gaze. 

“Relax, my love” she sighs right into his ear and she can _feel_ him, turning to jelly, his finest hairs standing up in attention. 

In a fluid motion, he gathers up courage and doesn’t think twice before capturing her lips in his, both of them moaning into the kiss by how good it feels to sooth that ache in their tummies. 

He hugs her closer to him, groins coming to rub against one another so snuggly in a press-and-sway, circular motion, over and over as they kiss, as their mouths regain their confidence and the press of their lips turns more urgent -- hungrier, wetter, decadent, as she roughly grasps his ginger locks, keeping his head in place as his fingers rub demanding patterns on her skin. 

They make out for a long while, enough for Hux’s erection to nestle against her stomach, making her grin so widely -- more than excited, she’s happy to have been the cause of Hux’s arousal. Such a stoic man, squirming because of her -- it was endearing and empowering in equal amounts. 

She takes the opportunity to slip his suspenders from his shoulders and unbutton his white dress shirt, which she then gingerly removes, slipping the fabric from one arm, then the next, so that her soft palms could trace the sharp lines of his chest, his torso -- up, then down, caressing the timid little curve of his lower belly, his ginger happy trail. 

In turn, he takes one deep breath and wills his own hands to move -- to travel up along her back to reach her bra clasp and with a little effort, unhook it, palms spamming her shoulder blades to pull the thin bra straps down, slowly, carefully, eyes greedy as he’s brimming with love upon seeing every inch of her skin revealed. 

They stop kissing for a breathless moment, studying each other up close. Yes, he had seen her naked before, but never like this. Never modelled by the moon’s light, never this close -- close enough to see her every curve and line and mole and scar, every bit that made her the person he had come to adore so much. 

He reaches tentatively, to lightly peck each collarbone, then the dip his tongue at the bottom of her throat, her chest...while his hands softly caress her flesh, with his thumbs nearing the underside of each breast which he then devours while her hands card through his scalp to guide him, as if saying _yes, yes, yes, there! Come closer._

In a surge of confidence, he sweeps her up and lies her back on the bed, stripping the last of his clothes off and climbing on top. He’s drawn like a magnet to her throat, as was his primal instinct -- kissing and nibbling and sucking to milk every possible moan out of her, to mark her, before mapping a trail of messy kisses down her body; from each breast, to the valley in between, her sternum, her stomach and each hip bone, down, down, down all the way to each calf to then kiss his way back up again, face nuzzled against the inside of her thighs as he finally takes off her panties. 

She’s too flustered for all the attention that she doesn’t quite know what else to do but arch her back and whine and take Hux’s head to guide him right into her, trapping him between her thighs because she needs it -- needs _him_ , so, so, so desperately, a feeling accentuated by the distinct tingling of her fangs swelling with thirst. 

Hux doesn’t even have time to drink her in with his eyes, but he does so with his mouth, tongue diving right in to devour her as if she was his last meal, as if his life depended on it -- as if, if he did a good job eating her out, she might let him have the rest of her. 

He’s drunk from her so quickly, so hazed and greedy as she keeps feeding him, nearly suffocating him with how tightly her legs are tensing around him, but it’s an honour, an absolute pleasure to have his breath stolen away because of her own strength applied _to him_. He had lusted for power all his life but he had imagined it in a different form. _Th_ is, he discovers, as he keeps on sucking and gulping her down and she keeps on tightening her grip on his hair...her power over him has been high he had been after this whole time. 

At one point he has to gently grab her thighs to breathe but then she arches off the bed and tenses, going mute where she had been singing with pleased sobs -- one hand fisting the sheets while the other firmly locks on the back of his head -- “ _don’t_ stop, Armitage, that's it…” 

He keeps up that exact swirling motion with his tongue, not changing a thing just as she orders. One of his hands grabbed the one that she had clenched on the sheets, soothing his thumbs over her knuckles as if to say, _“I’m here, get lost in your pleasure, I’m here for when you come back.”_

She calms down with quiet whimpers and Hux quickly climbs back up to capture her lips once more, swallowing every tired sound that escapes her mouth. She frames his face with one hand, grinning into the kiss as her other palm soothes down a path from his neck, to his torso, sneaking her fingers into his pubic hair before taking his cock in hand. 

He’s rendered, trembling and groaning with each stroke of her hand around his length, groans that he buries in the crook of her neck, too embarrassed to be seen in such a debauched state, the proper man that Hux is. But in that spot, breathing her beloved in, he could unwind, he could give in and let myself be pleasured. 

He has to be careful though. He masturbated of course, but it had been an eternity without someone else’s touch -- he didn’t want to ruin this encounter with him coming too quickly. He fists the base of his cock with an apologetic look which she understands, so she merely continues to glide her fingers around him, up to his tip, to his pelvis, his hips… light touches that sparked tingles all over his skin. 

“Are you okay?” She whispers. 

“Yes...been a while, that’s all.” 

“I know…” she kisses the side of his lips, “I understand” a kiss on his cheek… “It’s been a while for me too…

He nods and captures her kiss before it could land anywhere else other than on his lips. 

Once he’s calmed, together, ever so carefully, inch by inch they both guide Hux to _sink_ in. Slowly, oh so slowly, he’s welcomed by the warmest embrace that has all of his nerves alight. It’s so humbling, as he watches her eyes close and neck arching back in pure delight -- so humbling to have been allowed to do this to her, the person that had come to matter the most in his life. 

He sets a soft rhythm to begin with, so delicate, mindful of stroking every sensitive bump and spot on his way in and out. 

That leisured pace has her mouth watering, as the pressure builds up and stretches like a band. They’re taunting, those deliberate moves -- intense but not brutal, a pressure that’s growing louder and louder and impossible to resist and Hux can’t help but to gradually increment the intensity of his thrusts when he sees her melting into the sheets, crying with pleasured sobs. 

Hux envelops her in his arms to lean back and plant one of his feet on the bed so that his back was half-leant on the bed, while she clamps her arms and one of her legs around him. That way they can be completely entangled -- he can fasten the pace, up the force of each thrust, ramming deeper and deeper inside of her, over and over and over to hit a place that has her eyes rolling back and groaning out his name. 

_Fuck,_ if he had always detested his name, but when she yells it, when she moans it as she scratches her nails down his back, as she tenses her leg tighter against him -- _fuck, fuck, fuck does it sound heavenly._ “Armitage!” 

She goes to circle her own clit in tune with Hux’s thrusts and when he sees he’s compelled to place his fingers atop hers and help her to reel that orgasm in _together._

When he looks up to her, her pupils are blown wide, much like he imagines his look like when he teters between the line of vampire and man. She smiles, flashing him a hint of those fangs and his heart soars with so much tenderness. She doesn’t look frightening at all like he must do when he changes, but it’s such a warming, beautiful sight. So he kisses her -- _he has too_ \-- tongues dancing and breaths exchanged as the pressure builds, and builds and builds until she can’t keep up with his kisses for only whimpers can come out of her throat. 

“Do you have any neighbors?” 

“Who gives a shit about the neighbors?” 

She laughs, so overcome by it all that her laughs turn into sighs -- all of her body seems to arch with an upcoming wave, so Hux lays her on her back completely and climbs on top once again, going to grab both of her hands in his. 

“Oh, oh, right there, Armitage…” She furrows her brow, clenches her eyes shut as if trying to see it all in her mind -- envision that ember, growing into a flame, growing into a wildfire inside, which he feels, oh how hot it feels around his cock -- pulsing and throbbing and clenching when that orgasm hits and lasts so long, _so, so long._

His hips act on their own accord, maddened by the sensation of her coming around him, pistoning more adamantly to chase his own release. She detangles her hands from his and goes to wrap herself against him, pressing their bodies so close to feel him when, with one long groan he fills her right up, his hips slowing but moving with determination to milk every last drop. 

It’s oh so mellow when they come back. 

With (Y/N) rubbing soothing circles all over Hux’s back until his legs protest and he has to separate from her. He’s quick to run to his bathroom and bring back a damp cloth to clean themselves up before throwing it in the laundry bin. 

They lay side by side, watching each other with nothing but love in their eyes, even if neither had been brave enough to say it out loud. Their eyes though, they speak volumes, as the saying goes. 

(Y/N)’s fingers came up to caress Hux’s face, a gesture of hers she seemed to indulge in every chance she could. He was always curious as to why -- what did she see in him? All his life he had been told he was weak, thin as slips of paper, useless, too pale...every time (Y/N)’s eyes roamed his face, he wondered. Her fingers traced every one of his features so delicately, it was as if she was imprinting him in her mind through her senses, so that she could sculpt him or paint him whenever she wanted, from memory. 

“You had nothing to worry about…” she whispers. “That was perfect.” 

He’s so relieved to hear her -- he hadn’t even registered that he had tensed his shoulders some time during their afterglow. 

“More than perfect…” he curses in his mind for saying so -- what could be more than perfect? _Stupid Hux_ , he thinks, as insecurity kicks in once again, but she sees. She’s always seeing him. And so she nuzzles closer and hugs her to him, kissing away the doubt until he melts in her embrace. 

They stay awake all through the night, talking about everything and nothing in the small nest they had created between sheets and tangled limbs. They talk until words become yawns and their eyes turn heavy with sleep. 

The moon, their old friend, guards the two lovers so that they may doze away safely, until she too becomes tired and gives way to the Sun. 

\---

Ever since that beautiful night, (Y/N) had been visiting Hux at work more often. She would sit in the waiting room with a novel or a sketchbook, sometimes browsing through the various medical journals and papers that Hux had stacked in the couple of bookcases he had in the clinic. She loved getting out of Scarparus and breathing in a different environment; Hux had been immersed in her own space for so long that it felt nice to inhabit a space that was _his_ , see what his life was like when he was not cooped up at the mansion with her. 

It hadn’t been news that Dr. Armitage Hux had been frequenting Scarparus since autumn. Everyone who served the graveyard shifts would see Hux’s car heading that way, and would report to the daylight crowd. Hux knew this, of course, but gave no time to petty gossip. But now that (Y/N) was well, they delighted so much in teasing the Arkanisians with more material to talk about, as it had become a habit that after work, they would stroll around through the streets, long into the deepest hours of the night, before making their way either to Hux’s or back to Scarparus. 

_Was their vision deceiving them!?_ They citizens would gasp. 

_Who was that woman locked in Dr. Hux’s arm!? Was that indeed a woman or a creature!? A ghost!? Wasn’t Dr. Hux going to Scarparus? Could that be -- ? Could that be the long-lost heir to the (L/N)’s? No way, she was dead! As the rest of their family was._

_Was Dr. Hux seeing a ghost!?_

Hux and (Y/N) snickered every time they met someone’s gaze to have them rub their eyes and blink and make double-takes and what not. It was hilarious. More so when they were conscious when people followed them, hiding in dark alleyways to try and catch a glimpse of the pair. To give them a piece of the cake they were asking for, when turning around corners the couple would simply disappear and change into their bat forms. Oh, the gasps and yells and people turning white with the creeps! 

Their favorite time yet had been on a night that (Y/N) had accompanied Hux to pick up an order he had placed for medications at Mr. Tarkin’s.That decrepit man had nearly smashed some crystal vases as he registered the couple entering his drug store. 

“Hux, you come for that order of Novril, I imagine?” Tarkin said in his old English accent, eyeing Hux and (Y/N) with that never ending, condescending air of his. 

“Yes, Mr. Tarkin. May I introduce you to Miss (L/N), I’m guessing you know of her family? She’s the lady of Scarparus” 

Hux knew full well that Tarkin recognized (Y/N). He was the very first to trash on her grandfather. Both had worked together back in the day, when Arkanis was still a younger town, with Tarkin as a self-alloted director that oversaw most of the construction being done, and (Y/N)’s grandfather as chief engineer. But Tarkin was a fascist through and through, and he had been among the first to turn his back on the (L/N)’s -- if not the one that began all the tumult. 

At Hux’s introduction, Tarkin had remained speechless -- as still as a mummy (and looking like one too, with his wrinkled skin) as he appraised (Y/N), with his hands in fists as a refusal to greet her. 

“Why, Armitage, I’m guessing he doesn’t remember me, but I do” (Y/N) spoke.

“I remember Mr. Wilhuff Tarkin here, very well. You used to hang around the house a lot when I was quite little. Yes, you were always there, at our parties and such. All that wine didn’t sit well with you over the years though, did it Mr. Tarkin?” 

Tarkin’s eyes were boiling with such contained hatred but it didn’t even faze (Y/N), who had simply kept on smiling. 

“My, Mr. Tarkin, you’re looking rather gaunt. Looks like you’ve seen a ghost!” 

The veins in his eyes looked ready to bust, so Tarkin could only direct his attention to Hux instead if he wanted to keep from passing out on the spot out of pure rage. 

“Dr. Hux, what are you doing with the likes of a (L/N)!? A man such as yourself!?” 

“If I told you that would be highly improper.” 

“Oh, just! Take your order and get out of my shop!!” 

They had exited the store with utmost pleased looks on their faces, and just when they were crossing the door, (Y/N) had turned one last time to flash a smile at Tarkin -- whose skin paled as he caught a glimpse of the barest hint of her canines. 

Tarkin would then spread rumours around town the next morning, of what he had seen. But as Karma would have it, no one believed him, and he had began to be seen as the local senile, whose alcohol intake had finally managed to caught up with him, for him to accuse Doctor Hux of having a _vampire_ as a mistress. 

Still, it filled Hux and (Y/N) with tons of mirth when they caught onto the newest scandal. 

Now, it was the New Year’s evening, and the couple were cozied up in Scarparus’ library rooms, with the hearth emitting a fire that bathed the room in cozy hues that complement the silvery garlands and ornaments that Ceera had draped all over. 

Hux sits over a wooden desk, ever the workaholic, going over his year’s medical records and other paperwork, while (Y/N) rests on the couch, sketching him from her point of view. 

It’s quiet, save for the music on the gramophone and the cracking of the wood logs burning, embers bursting to produce heat. So tranquil that they hadn’t even registered the unexpected knocks on the main door, which Ceera had gone to answer. 

When Ceera returns to the library she’s as pale as a sheet of paper. Pale as the snowflakes outside, trembling as she holds several parcels in her hand that she eyes with orbs so big in astonishment that they could drop out of their sockets if she made a wrong move. 

“What is it, Ceera?” (Y/N) immediately stands up from the couch, worry dripping from her tone. Ceera can’t bring herself to respond, her eyes flicking from the bundle of parcels, up to her missus’ face. 

She extends her hands for (Y/N) to take, choking with all the nerves and disbelief coursing through her. 

“T-T-he mailman rang up, missus…-h-he um...christ, this is unreal, missus!” 

“What is, Ceera!? What’s this?” (Y/N) tears off the paper enveloping the parcel as she speaks. 

She, too, freezes, when the wrapping hits the floor -- heart dropping straight to her stomach. Hux goes to turn off the gramophone, and everyone in the room goes as quiet and still as a tomb. 

“W-what?” (Y/N) breathes out. 

The parcel contained letters -- letters all sent in the same dates, varying the year. 

_March 4th, March 22nd, April 30th, May 10th, July 21st, September 4th, December 12th…_

(Y/N)’s breathing so quickly, heart so loud that even Hux swears he can hear, as he goes to stand behind her to see her quickly skimming over each little square of paper, one by one and so on…

“T-t-the mailman...he came by, says they're doing the yearly clean-up and that they found these in one of their archive rooms -- that they had gotten lost and stacked away, noo’ne ever picked these up. He sends us the post’s apologies, miss. And that they’re willing to repay ye.” 

All the letters were signed in the same manner…

_“Love, your mother, X”’_

_“Write to us soon, - mom”_

_We miss you darling, please write back, - Mom”_

_“Little one, be safe, - your grandparents”’_

_“We haven’t heard back from you, please write back, - your grandparents.”_

...All this time, her family had been alive and well. The letters they’d sent had been lost all along. 

In her hands, (Y/) holds the most recent one and her eyes well up with the unshed tears she had kept saved for years and years since they had gone.

“They’re well…they’re home…” (Y/N) is speechless, reading the letters over and over again, from the oldest to the newest --signed by her mother on the 12th of December. The tone of the letter was of anguish, of sorrow -- all of her family were suspecting the worst yet they never lost hope, they kept writing and writing despite the lack of response. They were worried about _her_ , while (Y/N) had been feeling defeated, thinking of the most horrifying scenarios. Her heart breaks for her mother, for she knows how badly this must have been for her health -- all that suffering. 

This comes like a christmas miracle -- truly the wonders of someone above, working in her favor. 

“Well maybe we should go, darling”, Hux poses. “Maybe this is our fresh start. You know we talked about this, about having to move sooner or later. Maybe this is it.”

“Would you like that? Would you want to go?” 

It’s like someone punched a hole through his chest to yank his heart out, seeing (Y/N) in a puddle of tears. He had never been too good at taking care of himself despite being a doctor. But for her, he’d move heaven and earth if it meant easing her pain. And if it means an exit out of dull old Arkanis, then all the better. 

“Anywhere that makes you happy” 

It takes (Y/N) a moment to reflect on what Hux proposes, on all the implications, the possibilities, before, with a big intake of breath, she speaks again. 

“Then I guess, we’ll do it...I-I will write my mom back, I’ll-- _oh,_ I can’t believe this! Ceera! We must pack!” 

“Actually, miss…I’ve been meaning tuh tell you. Guess now’s the time…” 

“Is something wrong, Ceera?” 

“No! Not at all! But...I don’t think I’ll be coming with you. I had talked to Dr. Hux about this, uhm. There’s an agreement with Doctor Krennic that I’m to start an apprenticeship with ‘eem at the clinic, after the new year. Y’know, to become a doctor meself? I hope to save money to study, Miss. I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how” 

“Oh, Ceera!” She traps Ceera in a tight hug, both of them swaying side to side with all the excitement. “Darling, I’m so happy for you!”

“So you’re not sad I can’t go with ye, Miss?”

“Sad!? Absolutely not! This is amazing news, Ceera! You’ll make a fine doctor, I’m sure!” 

“But...but what will become of Scarparus, Miss? I’ll likely be moving closer to the clinic.” 

“Oh...you’re right.” 

Their cheer dies down, and (Y/N) has to ponder for a while before landing on a decision. 

“Well we could always come back to it?” Hux adds. “Keep it as our little hideaway?” 

“But what if someone robs it, Doctor?” Ceera replies, while (Y/N)’s gaze drifts to nowhere in particular...

...Drifts to the walls surrounding them, the walls covered in books and artwork that had been left here by her family. 

All those possessions meant nothing, if she couldn’t share them with her family. If she couldn’t see their smiles, hear their laughter, feel their embrace. The halls of Scarparus contained nothing but ghosts of a past lifetime, there was nothing left in it but the buried past, weighing them down. 

“No...we must sell it. Will you do me that favor Ceera? Will you see to it, please, Ceera? Armitage will help you. Tell them all I’m dead, that there’s no remaining heir to this place. Sell it and keep half of its earnings, Ceera. For your education. The other half we’ll use for our trip home.” 

“You can’t be serious, missus, I-I can’t--” 

“When have I joked about such a thing? It will be my gift for you, for your future. Please take it. I’ve no use for riches or anything of the sort. I just want to be with _them_.” 

Ceera breaks down in tears and goes to cling to (Y/N). Mumbling multiple _thank yous_ into her hair while (Y/N) rocks them back and forth until there’s nothing left but small hiccups from Ceera -- from _both_ of them. They clutch at each other so tightly, so desperately, for now it’s palpable in the air -- the coming flair _change_ that signalled their separation, after so many years of friendship. 

(Y/N) looks up at Hux, who had been standing on one side, silently regarding the exchange with forlorn eyes, as if he had been on the verge of tears as well but was disciplined enough to contain them. She extends one of her arms so that he could join their embrace and the three of them remain locked together, as one quaint little family that had been formed in such little time, under the hardest circumstances. 

They stay like that, basking in their embrace until the clock chimes, cheering for the arrival of a new year. 

For now, _this_ is enough, and they would deal with all the technicalities later. 

For now they enjoy the happiness of the present, hopeful for all the good that certainly awaits in the future. 

The worst had passed, at last. 

\---- 

At dusk, Scarparus’ front yards become a wonderland of mist, as the sea breeze becomes ice when the temperature drops below zero and the skies begin to darken. 

Ceera stays back in the doorway, for it’s much too cold even for her Scottish blood. 

After they’ve said their farewells, she observes as her friends seem to glide on and become two black silhouettes, walking hand in hand with their luggage, onto Dr. Hux’s car. 

One last time, she thinks of a prayer for her loved ones, so that their journey may be peaceful and safe, that they may arrive at their destination without troubles. That above all, their love may keep on strengthening. She hopes that this is not the last she’d see of them.

The car drives away and completely disappears -- seems as though it’s consumed by the fog to be transported into a twilight zone. Silly notions. Although Ceera had learned to not reject the magical or the macabre. Truths sometimes are kept hidden in the corners that no one dares to venture in, and only the bravest come to discover the kindness and beauty in the strange. 

When the car is gone, Ceera locks the door to Scarparus for good, and she too moves on. 

After a long drive to London, Hux and (Y/N) arrive at the docks and board their midnight ship that will take them along all the way to the Pacific. Luckily they had managed to land very fine, private quarters so they could remain undisturbed during the day. 

They go through all the boarding procedures and as soon as the bells have rung and the ship departs from the bay, they take their time to properly settle in their rooms before going up to the decks to admire the night sky. 

The sky above looks vast and eternal, as black as ink -- the perfect stage for the star’s lights to acquire protagonism, blinking like curious eyes that regard the unusual pair below them. 

“You can really see them clearly here, can’t you?” She muses as she nestles against Hux, with her head on his chest. “I’ve been locked up in my house for too long, I had forgotten all about this. And there’s so much pollution in Arkanis, don’t you think? For such a small town. _This_ , this is perfect.” 

Indeed it is, Hux thinks. Just as the breeze of the sea envelops them -- that salty, fresh smell of ocean all around. It’s _paradise_ \-- the two of them alone against the backdrop of the starry night. 

“You told me all about the colors of your home, the sunshine. Won’t you miss it? seeing it all in daylight?” Hux murmurs, suddenly afraid that (Y/N) might resent him for condemning her to a life of darkness, when she originated from a land that was ruled by color and warmth. 

“Darling, where we're going, the night tends to be more beautiful than the day sometimes. It’s a surreal country, you’ll see. It’s true! All the surrealists are going down there. At night, the dead come alive and there are feasts and music, so much singing and dancing! You’ll see my darling, it’s a real _dead man’s party_.” 

He can’t help but smile at her outlook on her country, all the love that dripped from her words. He ponders over how lucky he is to have met such a person, such a loving, passionate, intelligent woman that arrived in his life to turn it upside down for the best. He vows to be worthy of her, to meet her wit, to be nothing less than the partner she deserves. 

He’s conscious all of a sudden that he had stopped gazing at the sky to look at her, and love spreads all over him, warming him from the inside -- warming every bit of himself he thought would stay cold forever. 

“A dead man’s party you say? Sounds rather fitting for the likes of us.” 

“We’ll fit right in” 

And then, being a vampire doesn’t appear too horrible, if it means an eternity with (Y/N). 

All those years of loneliness and yearning seem to have paid off, now that he had found his long-awaited love. 

They share a knowing smile, nuzzling closer to each other to continue their musing for as long as the moon shall have them -- until dawn flirts its way to the surface and the time comes for them to sleep. They had a long journey ahead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We did it folks, we've reached the end of the story! But don't fret, remember there's an epilogue coming after this! Thank you for having been so patient, waiting for the last chapter. I was having such a hard time finishing because I realize that I fell way harder for the story than I imagined and I was feeling so reluctant about writing the last chapter. I hope it lived up to the expectations and that you've all enjoyed this ride, as much as I did writing it. Here are a few treats for having waited! :  
>   
> 1\. If you're wondering what Hux looks like in his bat form, you can look up pictures of the eastern red bat!  
> [Here's](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/56/f1/39/56f139c7778f8e6ce45a9c0c51bfe271.jpg) a link to an image. Look at that ginger boi -- so smol and grumpy.  
>   
> 2\. "Novril" the pills that Tarkin mentions, are purely fictional but they were created by the master Stephen King himself. Novril is the medicament that Annie Wilkes gives to Paul Sheldon in "Misery".  
>   
> 3\. There have been a few hints here and there about where the reader's home is, like for example in the food that they prepare in chapter 3 for the halloween feast, and the scenery she's described to Hux. I never wanted to say so explicitly because this is supposed to be more open to interpretation, being a reader insert fic. But! Here I also leave a few clues. When she says that it's a sureal country, and the Surrealist artists are going there, she refers to Andre Breton and a few other painters and poets, that travelled there and established the Surreal movement, from where Frida Kahlo emerges. Artist Salvador Dali also said that he would never want to live there, in a country that was more surrealist than his paintings.  
>   
> 4\. At the end, when reader says, "It's a dead man's party", it's a reference to the song (and album) by the same name, from my all time favorite 80's band, Oingo Boingo. I LOVE that song, it's such a bop that I really recommend listening to. But the vibe, the sound and imagery they fuse in that song, is also heavily inspired by the reader's culture.  
>   
> 5\. The popsicles on Hux's freezer are a reference to thescenes with Tom Hiddleston licking blood popsicles in Jim Jarmusch's vampire film, "Only Lovers Left Alive".  
>   
> I think these are all the behind the scenes facts I had? But if you want to know more, please know that I'm always open to talk with you guys and listen to your feedback! Thank you to everyone that has commented and left kudos so far, you've all made me so, so happy throughout this process!  
> See you in the epilogue! <3


	6. Chapter 6

_Toronto, Canada. November, 1975._

“Will you EVER indulge me in growing out your beard!?” 

(Y/N) exclaims just as the blade that she’s holding in one hand glides one last time through the shaving cream on Hux’s face. He’s sitting on their bathroom counter that evening, in preparation for a lecture he had been invited to give at The Gladstone Hotel. 

Getting ready together had been a habit they had immediately acquired, given their frustrating lack of a reflection. It had become a tiny moment of intimacy at the start of their daily routine that was always anticipated with glee, no matter how simple it was. 

“I work in the health sector, I can’t show up to work with scruff on my face.” 

“Oooh, that’s bull and you know it. It’s not like it’s unsanitary, Dr. Thrawn and Dr. Kallus have beards!” 

“Dr. Thrawn and Dr. Kallus are _animals_. I won’t have you making me look like one of those men from those records you play!” Hux huffs, referring to (Y/N)’s ( _quite impressive, thank you very much_ ) record collection that included the likes of Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones and Pink Floyd just to name a few --all with group members with exceptionally long hair and beards, that Hux was always roasting (Y/N) for liking. For his standards, even the hairstyles of The Beatles were too _wild_ , let alone their sound. Hux had a hard time accepting all these modern music and fashion trends. 

“Ahh, but you would look so handsome! Everyone is doing it too, darling, it’s the 70’s!” 

“Nope, I won’t have it.” 

“Ahh, you’re no fun.” 

She wipes the little bits of cream left on his face with a damp towel and then proceeds to rub soothing circles with lotion, holding his face in her hands to admire her work, as she always did. 

“There. All clean shaven and proper.” 

“Thank you. Anyway, at what time is your friend coming?” 

Hux says as he hops off the counter and goes inside (Y/N)’s makeup bag to retrieve her favorite lipstick. He frames her face in his hands just like she had earlier, while gingerly applying it on her lips, thumbing off the extra bits of pigment on the corners and her cupid’s bow. “ _There_ ” he murmurs. 

“Actually, Esme should be here any minute now.” 

Esmeralda was a friend that (Y/N) had met during their stay in California. 

After the couple had departed to the heart of (Y/N)’s country, they lived there for nearly ten years until they decided it was time to move on to their next adventure. Ten years in one place, with their apparent age, had been too risky, but it had given (Y/N) enough time to enjoy her family and come to terms with separation. 

Their time there had been so healthy for both of them, especially for Hux, for whom the natural warmth and good spirits of the people turned out to be a wonderful aid in him coming out of his shell. He had never been welcomed with such benevolence in all his life, and for that he would always cherish their time there. 

For (Y/N) it had also been marvelous, more so for her career. Over time she absorbed all there was from the avant-garde movements from home and her work had become highly praised and recommended. To produce art under her name was a bit unsafe however, but she managed to swim between multiple seas by using aliases, and at one point she decided to specialize in art criticism and curatorial work, as a safer outing. 

In 1958, they decided to move to California, as per recommendation from (Y/N)’s friends and mentors within the artistic scene. There, she continued her studies upon where she met Esmeralda at University, becoming instant friends. It was clear from the beginning that Esmeralda had a unique spirit, much like (Y/N)’s; she had an interest in the occult and the strange, which filled (Y/N) with such joy, _considering._

After their graduation, Esmeralda pursued her goal of opening up her own parlor and gallery of rare art and other sorts of oddities to be collected from around the continent, while (Y/N) had managed to land a position as a curator at The Art Gallery of Ontario while it underwent a major restoration and repurposing period at its location at _The Grange._

Hence, In 1972, (Y/N) and Hux moved to Canada, and as luck would have it, in the current year, (Y/N)’s dear friend had found her way into the city to scout for haunted relics at Casa Lomaand The Islands. They were to meet tonight, right before Hux’s lecture.

“--Have fun. And don’t feel obligated to make it to the lecture. Enjoy your time with your friend, you haven’t seen her in so long.” Hux says as he straightens up his black wool coat at the door. 

“Nonsense! Of course I’ll be there to see my handsome Doctor. Your lecture is the last one on the itinerary isn’t it?” 

“That, it is” 

“Then it should be no problem.” (Y/N) says while carding her fingers through the material of Hux’s coat, ridding the lapels of nonexistent lint -- all but an excuse to touch him before a long evening ahead, away from each other. “Good luck, darling.” 

“Be careful on the TTC when you come, _please_.” Hux insists, still suspicious of using public transport at such late hours, no matter how safe it actually was, for a growing metropolis such as Toronto. 

“Don’t worry, darling” 

Hux inclines his head to kiss her forehead and steps out into the first evening of the season that saw snow coating the entrance of every home down the lane. 

\---- 

Hux observes the crowd from his spot at the panel of doctors, catching the moment when (Y/N) arrives with her friend, both dressed so snugly in their overcoats and knitted hats. How kind of Esmeralda, Hux thinks, to have accompanied (Y/N) to see her safely to her destination. He has never interacted that much with her in the past but, Hux distinctly remembers the moment that (Y/N) had introduced them. 

Hux had conditioned himself to expect the worst of people to avoid desillusion, and he had been particularly wary of people that came in contact with his beloved for fear of seeing her hurt. 

But _Esme --_ they had read each other’s energy from the very start. It had been as loud as a fire alarm, that edge in her soulful eyes that screamed _“I care about my friend and if you hurt her, I’m going to make you pay for it” --_ but it was a look that he returned with as much potency. That first moment they shook hands, they had immediately understood one another. And to Hux, Esme seemed like a psychic, possessing some ancient knowledge that she only ever hinted at by a smirk or the twinkle of an eye, making her able to read and predict situations so precisely. He sometimes wondered if she was a vampire herself. 

After Hux’s turn to speak at the podium had come and the evening had arrived to a close, he makes his way among the sea of people to reach (Y/N) and Esmeralda but is stopped halfway through by Dopheld Mitaka, a young student with pale skin and black hair that was always hanging around Hux’s social circle -- he didn’t know if he found it flattering or annoying, maybe the kid had good intentions and it was just Hux being grumpy and wanting to get home at once, always dreading the prospect of socializing. 

“That was an excellent lecture, Dr. Hux! So detailed!” Mitaka exclaims, eagerly extending his hand for Hux to shake. 

“Thank you, Dopheld I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Hux speaks stiffly, meeting (Y/N)’s eyes from across the room and urging for her to come and _save him._ He sees her laugh in the distance, getting the message perfectly before walking over to him. 

“Yes, it was brilliant! I specifically found it interesting when you mentioned--” 

“--Ah!, Dopheld have you met my _wife_?” Hux cuts while (Y/N) drapes herself to his side with an apologetic look at poor Mitaka, hoping to make up for Hux’s bluntness. 

“N-no, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, how do you do, Mrs. Hux?” Poor Mitaka, whose giddiness had been short lived. (Y/N) was torn between laughing at his expression or downright feeling sorry for him. 

“Hello, Dopheld, nice to meet you. This is my friend, Esme” 

“Hi, Mr. Mitaka, nice to meet you!”, “ _Hux_ ”, Esme says with that ominous yet non-threatening tone she exclusively used with him, as if they were always engaging in this sort of cosmic exchange, measuring each other out despite the many years of acquaintance. Ever the witchy woman, Esmeralda senses the awkwardness in the group and chips in to lighten up the mood, which Hux greatly appreciates. 

“Have you heard? There’s going to be a total eclipse of the Sun tomorrow” 

“Oh, no, not at all” Mitaka speaks with disappointment dripping from his tone at having been interrupted, totally uninterested about the phenomena.

“Well, we must be going to bed early tonight then, to catch the spectacle tomorrow. Shall we _go_ , (Y/N)?” Hux presses, making (Y/N) and Esme silently giggle. If Hux only knew how his grouchiness was always humoured between the two when they got together. 

“Yes, yes, let’s go, darling. Good night Mr. Mitaka, nice to meet you once again. Esme, are you taking the streetcar to where you’re staying?” 

“Actually I’m going to stay back for a bit -- heard amazing stories about hauntings in The Gladstone, so I want to sneak a look at the rooms before leaving, you go on though.” 

“Alright then, see you soon, Esme!” 

“Goodbye, my dear sister!” She envelops (Y/N) in a tight embrace before bidding farewell to Hux and Mitaka, who had shyly dismissed himself to go catch Dr. Peavy instead. 

The couple rush to their escape before Hux could be ambushed by more colleagues, lucky enough to catch the Queen St. streetcar just as it slowed down at their stop. They’re squished against one another in the train with how full it is, even at the late hour. It truly was a bustling city that never slept, a northern New York -- which worked perfectly for their lifestyle. 

Hux stands, supporting himself with one hand on an upper handle, while caging (Y/N) to his side, who has her head comfortably resting against his shoulder as they watch the blurry cobalt, crimson and yellow dabs of night lights glide like comets in space, dewey from the frost covered windows. 

“You know, even Mitaka has a beard...” (Y/N) says. 

“ _Yes_ and it doesn’t suit him one bit.” 

“I’m never going to win this argument am I?” 

She looks up at him, marvelling at how vibrant Hux’s green eyes looked as they travelled through the busy streets, with the lights flickering on his face like passing, luminous ghosts. Just then he looks down, admiring her in her long red coat, all cuddled against him. So many years and still, it always hit him with the strength of a hurricane, the realization that she was _his_ \-- that he was not another lonely passenger, soulless as they navigated the city on their own, looking like automats in rows. Not anymore. 

He can’t help but smile at his _wife_ \-- wider still as he catches that wicked glint in her eyes that spoke of conspiracy, of a secret desire that was calling to be fulfilled. And he obeyed, by the Gods, did he always obey. 

They made love all night. Sweet, sweet love in front of the fireplace, for they had been too eager to make it to the bedroom -- bodies a tangled, sweaty mess as they stripped and contorted themselves to fit the couch. Passionate, blazing love, until (Y/N)’s limbs tired from supporting herself as she rode Hux -- as she scratched and gripped and pulled at Hux with all she had, until he transformed into a grunting, languid puddle of goo, melting into the material of the couch. 

She had slumped atop him when they finished, trailing a path of kisses up the elegant column of his neck, nibbling at the underside of his ear, below his jaw, mouthing so lovingly at the bumpy side of his Adam’s apple. 

“What of tomorrow?” 

“What’s that?” He sighed, still trying to recover his breath as he soothed his palms up and down her spine. 

“I guess I mean, _today_ , it’s like 3pm now. The total eclipse. It’s the one time we can be out during the day.”

“Then we _do_ have to get to sleep after all. Or else we’re going to miss it.” 

(Y/N) smiled against Hux’s skin, coming up to kiss him on the lips before they drifted off to sleep the few hours they had until the hour of the eclipse came. 

**\----**

They don’t really have much time --the total eclipse of the sun only lasts a few hours. 

They had talked about greater plans, of maybe going down to High Park to finally see it in all its splendour during the day; how the grass would be closer to the color of limes or pears rather than a somber dark green, scattered with the bright splashes of roses and lilies all over the vast area. They had imagined they’d sit in one of the benches to be caressed by the morning winds as they watched families and friends playing and eating their picnics, gazing at young lovers like the pair of old people they truly were despite their looks. 

But they couldn’t risk it. It was too dangerous, if they miscalculated their timing. If it was too early or too late, they could get burned by the hazardous rays of sunlight in their transition to align with the moon. 

Instead they remained at home, bringing up a pair of folding chairs to their backyard garden to sit down with a quirky kind of picnic of their own: two tall glasses of Atlantic salmon’s blood, freshly caught from the Toronto Islands. 

They sat outside bathing in the kind of light they never got to experience anymore, for when was the last time they had seen pale blue skies or their gardens, looking as vivid as a technicolor film?

That was more than enough for them. They needn't do anything extravagant to be happy. 

“Wouldn’t it be convenient, if someone were to wipe out the Sun completely?” Hux musses from his chair, inching to take (Y/N)’s hand in his as she broke into a fit of giggles at his unusual remark. 

“Just _what_ are you talking about?” 

“If someone were to annihilate the Sun...we could roam around the city any time we wanted. Think about it...” 

She snorts while shaking her head, looking at her husband with utmost fondness -- heart so full as she observes his ginger looks looking all the more fiery, his freckled skin that blushed at the sudden exposure, his pondering eyes that looked a more bluish-green than their actual seafoam hue. 

“I think we should stop going to so many midnight screenings of sci-fi films” 

“I’m going to do it -- I’m going to design a super weapon. I’ll call it... _The_ _Starkiller_ \-- I don’t know” 

He quirks his mouth and nose like he does when something displeases him, which only makes (Y/N) keep on laughing. It was so rare of Hux to be in a silly mood -- a magical side effect of the eclipse, maybe? 

She seizes the moment and goes to sit on his lap, with her head on the crook of his neck, which she swears it feels all the more warmer, so, so cozy like that, nestled against her husband. 

“When you blow up the Sun, I’ll meet you on the dark side of the moon” she whispers. 

“Deal.” 

He looks down to see her gazing straight back at him, as she always tends to do. His heart halts, seeing those same pair of eyes in this different light -- he’s compelled to tighten his embrace and kiss her. A quiet man’s way of confessing his love. 

They kissed and kissed until the Sun and the Moon aligned, echoing the two lovers below. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you so much for everyone that has read and left a comment. From the bottom of my heart, thank you soooo so much. I hope this little epilogue was to your liking and I hope to see you all soon! This is not the last of vamp!hux & his artist. I can't promise you an exact date, but I've already got a sequel planned and ready to be developed! Hint hint, it will cover their life in reader's country, and a certain villain from the sequel trilogy will make an appearance as a key character. Once more, THANK YOU, thank you, thank you for making it to the end with me! I hope to hear what you thought of the story as a whole and please know that you can always find me here or over at tumblr to talk more about this if you want! <3333

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @theold-ultraviolence ! <3


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